Remember Me
by jmajere
Summary: The Paris Opera has reopened and renovated searching for the most talented singers and dancers in the world. When the ghosts of the past are unearthed, not even death itself can stop the Phantom from breaking his curse. Not a CE story, but not EOW either.
1. Prologue

Let me know what you guys think of this...whether or not I should keep going with it. I'm going to follow more of the classical Gaston Leroux version of the Phantom vs the ALW...it's much more dark and seductive in my opinion.

Hope you guys enjoy!

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Prologue

a spiderweb of memories and dreams  
crushed by a careless passer-by  
with no idea of the impact she'd had  
on two entwined lives

She was out of place, and she knew it.

The small, unproposing slip of a girl kept flicking her head over her shoulders as she tiptoed across the massive stage. The sheer size of the auditorium in the grand theatre of the Paris Opera House was enough to make anyone look small, let alone the pale, slender creature. As she tiptoed across the stage, the girl was forced to dodge ladders and equipment carelessly left strewn about by the renovation crews. With the opening night only a few weeks away, most of the renovations had already been completed. Tomorrow morning, the opera house would be filled with the noise of practices and rehearsals, as well as the hammering from last minute repairs.

But the girl cared nothing about this. For now, she simply stood in awe, gazing at the enormity and splendor surrounding her. Perhaps because the lighting was so dim, the dark shadows caused the cavernous room to seem even larger than it already was. The pale girl shone out like a beacon amid the shadows, her white dress and luminous skin reflecting back what little light there was. She licked her lips and closed her eyes, trying to imagine what the theater would be like packed with thousands, lights from the massive chandelier gleaming.

She glanced around once again, reassuring herself that the theater was still empty. Tentatively, she opened her mouth and began to sing the opening lines to In Truittina. Although she sang softly, her voice echoed eerily resonating off the walls. Closing her eyes, the girl tried again - this time concentrating on her song. She spread her arms, then slowly lowered them, crossing them around her abdomen, holding herself gently.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She whispered softly, "Papa...Papa I'm here, I made it...I just wish you could see me. It's what you always wanted..."

A sudden flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, startled the girl. She jumped and a small shriek escaped past her bloodless lips.

There was nothing there. "Hello," she called out. Sighing, she shook herself, "Silly girl, giving yourself the heebie jeebies for nothing." She hugged herself, then walked across the stage towards the exit. "Come on, my dear...let's see if we can find our new dressing room."

The pale silhouette retreated, disappeared into shadows. Once again, the still, cavernous theater remained silent...but not empty. Deep in the darkness of what was once known as Box 5, a pair of yellow eyes gleamed.


	2. Excerpt

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Excerpt from the _Societe _Column -

...Monsieur's Robedoux and Chirac are trying to overtake the world of Opera in a money sucking all-star effort to overhaul the almost extinct Paris Opera House. Culling young talent from around the globe must have cost the Monsieurs an absolute _fortune_, let alone the renovation effort - which sources tell me isn't exactly going as planned. Built back in the late 1700's, this baby was sure built to last - but of course, they didn't exactly have plumbing back in the day. Oh, and let's don't forget the fact that the poor theater's been neglected for the past fifty years at least.

Plus, my sources say that underneath the Opera House proper, is a whole series of basements, store rooms and catacombs - spooky, huh? It's a virtual labyrinth underneath! And, just to make things a little bit more interesting, there's been a whole string of unexplained accidents and mishaps. Perhaps the legend of the Opera Ghost might get the chance to be reborn...hey, who said we can't die twice? It's absolutely delicious, isn't it!

Oh my stars - what kind of gossip columnist would I be though, if I neglected to leave out the main attraction, and I **do** mean _the main attraction_. Signora Marguerite Bottecelli has been signed on by the Monsieurs and will be highlighting as the Prima Donna in the upcoming operas. Rumor has it, she's much more impressed with herself than the critics are! But of course, **_I_** like to give everyone a fair chance to prove themselves in this column....

So look out girls, _La Marguerite _has come to show us **_all_** how it's done...


	3. Chapter 1 Stay Away From the Vaults

"Follow me everyone, if you please, and do try to stay together. Although the theatre has been renovated, I still wouldn't want anyone to get lost in the corridors so early on. The maestro simply wouldn't approve. Some of them are still quite dangerous you know." Nervous laughter scattered through the gathered crowd. Moving as one, the collection of the Opera's singers and dancers surged forward, following Andres Piangi, the head stagehand, on a tour of the new dressing rooms.

As everyone moved forward, Lana followed trying to keep the confusion out of her eyes. Piangi spoke in rapid French. While she did speak some herself, it was hopeless trying to keep up with his fluency. 

Beside her, a soft feminine voice murmured in accented English. "It sucks to be the only American around, no?"

Lana turned to see a young, petite beauty in her early twenties. She had a friendly, heart shaped face framed by a mass of golden locks. Two tawny eyes peered into her own.

"You speak English?" Lana stammered, instantly regretting how stupid that must have sounded.

The girl must not have minded to much. She burst into a peal of genuine laughter. "My brother taught me," she smiled, extending her hand. Lana accepted it, enthusiastically shaking it up and down. She felt like an island in a sea of foreigners. It only took a few kind words to make her feel a world better. 

"I'm Isabella, but I've hated that since I was a child. Call me Bella."

"Lana," she murmured. "I'm Lana Keeton, pleased to meet you." 

The little frenchwoman gestured towards the now retreating backs of the crowd. "Come, we mustn't get seperated from the group. Monsieur Piangi will have a fit. You stay with me, Lana, and I'll help you with your French. Well, on one condition that is." A mischievous grin crossed her lips.

Lana couldn't help but smile in return. There was something about the girl she instantly connected with. It was a rarity for her to form an instant friendship. In fact, this was probably the first time in her life she found someone she liked so immediately. "And that condition is...?"

Bella clasped her hands together like a delighted child. "You must teach me how to cuss like a real American. My brother wouldn't even teach me an slang, let alone the real cussing words."

Lana help the laugh that sprang to her lips. Bella looked so sincere in her request, how could she possibly deny her? "You teach me French, and I'll teach you slang. Deal?"

Bella clapped Lana on the back. "Deal. Now we had better catch up to Piangi, or we might get lost in the corridors. Wouldn't want that would we?" She said this last with a bit of irony. Lana would later discover that her new friend was the only daughter of the powerful Deloitte family - one of society's darlings. She had grown up a theater brat, her family being one of Paris' patron saints of ballet. It was only natural that Bella was on familiar terms with the Opera House, renovations or no.

As they caught up with the crowd, a contented smile crossed Lana's lips. For the first time since she stepped in France, she had finally made a friend.

Six months ago, the call went out around the world that the Paris Opera House was reopening. For years, the monolith had sat in near ruin. That is until Monsieurs Robedoux and Chirac found the funding to reopen it in glory. Lana never dreamed she would be chosen to come and join the opera house. The auditions were grueling, but the death of her father only made them seem worse. Cancer claimed her mother when she was little more than a toddler. When her father died of the same ailment not even a year ago, it hit her harder than anyone could imagine. So hard in fact, that when the call came announcing ehr acceptance into the opera, she almost declined. She was an only child - a lonely child, but her father and her music were her world. He would never have wanted her to give up their dream of singing at the opera house for nothing. Her father had scarified his entire life to give his daughter the best musical background money could buy. "It's in your blood," he would always say. "The angel of music touched our family many, many years ago. It would be a sin for you _not_ to sing."

So she came to France - a suitcase full of clothes, a pocket full of money, and a heart full of dreams.

So far, the only real problem Lana had was the whole "not speaking French" thing. Not a biggie. I can handle it. Foreigners blunder through America all the time without speaking a lick of English. 

The sound of Monsieur Piangi's voice brought her out of her reverie. He gestured towards a barely lit corridor. Lana managed to pick up the words "room" and "bath" befoer the group lurched forward once again.

"He said that the dancer's lounge and lavatory is down that hall," Bella translated with a smile.

For the next hour and a half, the group was shone all the ins and outs of the theater's backstage. Lana realized with shock that even after the two hour tour, they had only scratched the surface.

"Underneath this level are the theater's vaults," Monsieur Piangi spoke while Bella quietly translated. "The lower levels, and monsieur's and mademoiselles, let me be perfectly clear, are absolutely off limits. While there is _nothing _of interest down there, I fear that some of you might take it upon yourselves to investigate the Opera ghost."

Several curious whispers circulated through the crowd. Piangi silenced them with one raised hand. "Anyone found underneath this level will face immediate disciplinary action - possibly even expulsion without pay. Now if there aren't any questions, I will lead the singers to the choir rooms and the ballet corps to their practice rooms."

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Bella munched happily on her croissant, watching Lana from beneath shaded lids. Every morning for the past two weeks, the duo shared breakfast before joining their daily activities in the theater. Bella, Lana discovered, had quite the talent for ballet. She was so good in face, that the rumor was that she would be the next prima ballerina even without her family's backing. Regardless of her family background and her apparent growing fame, Bella was still an unbelievably kind, down to earth kind of girl.

Even if she did have a potty mouth in two different languages now.

"I stopped by your flat at nine o'clock last night. You were not in." A guileless smile played across Bella's lips. She watched her friends reaction, searching for some secret clue. "Perhaps you've found yourself a new amore and did not tell me?"

A guilty flush spread across Lana's neck. "Nothing as interesting as that, Bella, trust me." She reached for her glass of water, almost knocking it over in the process. 

From the moment Lana had first entered the theater, she felt drawn to its secret corridors, drafty hallways, hidden mysteries... Once as a child, she had spent the summer with a wealthy, eccentric aunt who lived in a dilapidated mansion in Connecticut. That was the most magical summer of her life. Every day, she would scour the hallways, searching for secret passages, reveling in the mansions mysteries. Something about Lana's solitary nature mixed with a powerful curiosity gave her a passion for secret places. The Paris Opera house was a dream come true. The theater was enormous. Seventeen stories high, countless stories below, the Opera once housed stables, seamstresses, caretakers, and a bevy of ballerinas, singers, trainers, tutors, not to mention the army of stagehands, screen builders, and crewmen. Bella mentioned that at some point, the Opera's underground labyrinth once housed a make shift jail.

Walking through the hallways was like walking back in time. For the past two weeks, after practices every night, Lana explored her new home.

"So... if it isn't a man, then where were you?" Bella pried. It was obvious she wasn't going to let her off the hook. Lana watched, slightly envious, as Bella buttered another croissant. It was amazing. The little frenchie could eat whatever the hell she wanted, yet still remain impossibly slender.

Lana sighed. Some girls have all the luck. After several evasive moments of not answering, she couldn't keep up the silence under Bella's stare. "I was exploring the theater..."

Bella slammed her knife down in shock. "Oh damn it Lana, **_tell_** me you didn't just say that. You **_know_** that you can get in trouble for that."

It would appear her new friend had a flair for the dramatic. "I didn't go underneath," she said defensively. "Piangi said nothing about the top floors."

"But why?" Bella wailed. "Especially when I've already invited you _several_ times to come and see Paris with me." Lana could see that she had honestly hurt her friend's feelings.

"Bella, it's not that I don't want to, it just that I'm still pretty shy about going to one of your parties. My french is terrible, and the thought of meeting all those strangers terrifies me."

Isabella wrinkled her pert nose. "Oh I see. So it's not that you don't **_want _**to, it's just that you don't want to."

Lana stammered, her cheeks beginning to burn. Bella laughed warmly, reaching out across the table to touch her friend's arm. "If your prefer to spend your hours in the dust instead of partying with me, then I give you my blessing. Whatever gives you pleasure is fine with me, ma chere, but do me a favor. Whatever you do, stay away from the lower levels."

"I'm not an idiot, Bella. I heard Piangi."

"No," she shook her head. "Not because of Piangi. Do this for me, Lana. Stay away from the lower levels."

The sincerity in Bella's warning gave her pause. "You don't really believe in the Opera Ghost, now do you?" Lana flashed her an uneasy smile. Bella was suddenly creeping her out.

"I'm serious, Lana. People have hand accidents down there. Unexplained accidents. I will not talk about what I believe is down there, Lana, it's bad luck. But believe me - _stay out of the vaults._"

"Oh come on, Bella," Lana tried to sound nonchalant, but could barely muster much beyond a whisper. "Please don't tell me you believe in all that bullshit."

"Bullshit," her face lightened with a smile. "I'll have to remember that one."

The distant sound of a clock chiming echoed through the cafe. Quickly setting their bill, the girls hurried along the crowded streets towards the theater for morning practices.

********************************************************************************

La Marguerite lived for the opera. A born prima dona, she held the world's applause in her fingertips, enjoying every moment of fame. When the Paris Opera reopened, summoning the world's best singers, she answered the call without hesitation. The managers wooed her, assuring her of the top positions, choicest of roles, and more money than any other singer in the world. The was never a question in her mind about undertaking the role.

Most singers would have been honored to have been offered such a lucrative position without so much as an audition. la Marguerite took everything in stride, assuming it was merely what was due to someone of her obvious talents. 

Because of her expertise and superior experience, she refused to practice with the general choir until they had "properly learned" their roles. To practice with such amateurs would simply be too tedious for someone of her position. Now, a scant two weeks away from opening night, the great prima dona finally deemed Maestro Juneux worthy of her esteemed presence. 

Lana hated her on sight. Judging by the hidden sneers and whispered insults from the other singers, she guessed they didn't care too much for the strutting peacock either. So far, practice had been a complete and utter disastor. While her voice was impeccable, La Marguerite had absolutely no concept of stage direction. Instead of accepting her own shortcomings, she argued with Juneux at every turn.

After two hours of doing nothing but rehearsing the stage directions (something the rest of the choir had learned _weeks_ ago), they had progressed enough in the first act to reach the heart rending aria:

Celeste Aida, forma divina,

Mistico serto di luce e fior,

Del mio pensiero tu sei regina

Just as the soprano's voice soared to majestic heights unknown, the managers and their entourage of patrons barged in, sending the mob, once again, into complete chaos. The longsuffering maestro had to turn his back and bite his fist before he was able to face the managers with a pitiful looking smile. He might as well saved himself the effort. Brushing past the maestro, Robedoux and Chirac surrounded their new prima.

Lana couldn't suppress the frustrated sigh that welled up inside. All around her, the other chorus girls broke into chatting clusters, leaving her the odd man out. Not that Lana really minded. She had always been of a solitary nature, not to mention the fact that her French made conversation somewhat limited.

Her new friend, Bella - who was herself a social butterfly - simply couldn't understand Lana's solitude. In fact, the two girls couldn't be more polar opposites. Bella was a pretty little thing with hair the color of spun gold, honeyed skin kissed by the sun, and enchanting amber eyes. Her laugh was as easy as her smile. Everyone she met loved her. Lana, on the other hand, had long raven curls that she tamed by keeping it almost constantly in braids. Her skin was as pale as alabaster. She had inherited her father's cornflower blue eyes - the one feature on her body that she didn't mind. 

Where Isabella was voluptuous and petite, Lana was slender to the point of thinness. Instead of dressing in Bella's vibrant colors and stylish designers, she stuck to darker solids. At one point, almost everything Lana owned was black - not out of any personal angst or secret wish to look like she belonged in a Marilyn Manson fan club, but out of some unconscious desire to call as little attention to herself as possible.

Amazingly enough, their opposites seemed to attract. Bella loved the strangeness of her new companion, longing to draw her out of her shell. Lana loved how the crazy little frenchwoman seemed to find delight in everything.

Suddenly, the fine hairs at the back of Lana's head stood straight up, drawing her out of her silent pondering. She had the distinct impression that someone was watching her. The animated movement's of La Marguerite's wildly gesticulating hands caught her attention. She almost looked away when her eyes locked onto a man standing beside Monsignor Chirac. When he saw that she was returning his stare, he met her gaze evenly for a moment longer before turning way. Lana was intrigued.

The man was young, possibly in mid twenties. His long black hair was drawn carefully behind his neck tied in a leather thong. He was dressed in a black suit and tie like the other gentleman surrounding the prima dona, yet he still looked out of place somehow. 

Lana smiled. The man was handsome, she would give him that. As she watched, he bowed to the prima, taking one of her slender hands into his own before gently kissing it. While he stood bent over her hand, his eyes snaked back over to Lana. Again their eyes made contact. Blushing, she was the one to look away this time.

After what seemed like an eternity of back patting by the managers and strutting by La Marguerite, the managers took their leave. It took several minutes of controlled chaos before the poor maestro managed to gain control again. During that time, Lana considered the strange man who had caught her eyes. Her experience with men was quite limited. She had always joked that the only man she had every really known was her father. Besides, the last thing she needed right now was garnering the attentions of some over zealous frenchman. 

The practice lurched forward. Luckily for everyone involved, practice moved slightly more smooth as the afternoon progressed. It was still past seven before the maestro was pleased enough to call practice to a halt.

Exhausted, Lana found her way to her dressing room thinking of nothing but a hot bath . The strange man from earlier was as far from her mind as the ghost from Bella's warning. All she wanted to do was get a nice hot soak.

Just as her hand touched the doorknob of her dressing room, she froze. The hair at the back of her neck was standing straight up again. Turning, she half expected to see the man from earlier. She paused, her hearting beating in her chest. But the hallway, shrouded in shadows, was empty. 

"Oh, get a grip," she whispered to herself fiercely, giving herself a quick mental shake. "Keep listening to Bella, and you're going to start jumping at your own shadow." With that, she stepped inside.

Lana never noticed the pale yellow eyes that stared though the darkness, nor the black man like shape that stood outside her dressing room door, waiting.

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a/n: hope you guys like - please please please read and review

*does the read and review dance*


	4. Chapter 2 The Ghost

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Excerpt from the _Societe _Column - 

The Monsieur's have outdone themselves! I, along with a select handful of press, was invited to the spectacular opening night at the Paris Opera House. Believe you me, the Opera Populare will _never_ be the same! Their rendition of _Aida_ was, as expected, superb. And, as we hoped, La Marguerite was outstanding - a real tour de force.

Now, on to the mysterious fantasy that is Monsieur Pierre d'Bienne, society's favorite bad boy. Rumors are that he has taken a fancy to one of the new chorus girls...

Chapter 2 - Beware the Ghost

Lana quickly discovered that the most difficult adjustment between America and France came in the bathroom. For one thing, most Europeans never use showers. Instead they build giant bathtubs, easily twice the size of most economy size American ones. Also, while she enjoyed living in her small but clean apartment, the one thing she couldn't seem to get used was the fact that she shared her tiny bathroom with the five other people on her floor. She had her own bedroom, a functional kitchen and dining area, even her own miniscule living room. Was it so much to ask to have her own tub?

It didn't take long for Lana to take advantage of the newly updated facilities offered in the dressing quarters of the theater. Shining new bathrooms with modern plumbing and interior; deep, European bathtubs - Lana was in heaven. Plus, because she tended to frequent the theater after hours, there was usually no one there.

Lately, she was finding herself spending more and more time at the opera house. Most of the workers at the theater - seamstresses, ushers, stagehands, janitors - loved her for her quiet demeanor and curious interest in their jobs. While she might not have many friends on stage, Lana was a popular figure behind the scenes. Although they found her a bit odd by their own standards, because she was beautiful was well as kind, they chose to attribute her slight eccentricities to her unfortunate Americaness. 

It was not two weeks into performances. Lana had been living in France now for two months. While she had made fast friends with Bella, s he was still having trouble completely adjusting. Her father's death was fresh on her mind. Perhaps that was part of the reason she immersed herself so completely into the quite solitude of the theater. She coveted her silence.

Glancing at her watch, Lana groaned. It was 2 a.m. already. The last of the patrons and well wishers were long gone, the performance over hours ago. The stagehands had cleared the scenery away long ago leaving only an empty stage. Lana sat perched on the railing of one of the many boxes overlooking the dimly lit theater. Percy, the master stagehand, knew how much she enjoyed her after-hour exploring and always left a few lights on.

Hugging her knees to her chest, which was not an easy thing to do when perched precariously on a slim banister at least thirty feet in the air, Lana allowed her mind to wander. Her father dreamed of having her sing - a prima donna of the stage. But, she was a chorus girl, one of the world's best, mind you. But she was a chorus girl all the same. Right now, even a small part outside of the chorus seemed out of her reach, let alone replacing someone like La Marguerite. It would take time, she told herself. Time and talent... well at least she had plenty of time on her hands. Talent was another matter. 

The place was empty. Tentatively, she began to sing the opening words to the aria:

Celeste Aida, forma divina,

Mistico serto di luce e fior,

Del mio pensiero tu sei regina

A sudden noise from the stage startled her into silence. Her eyes widened, searching the stage for any sound of movement. It was empty. All was silent. 

She could have sworn she heart a voice down there, whispering as she sang. Lana's cheeks began to burn in embarrassment. Was someone down there listening? Logic told her she was the only person fool enough to be at the theater this time of night, but her heart raced all the same.

"It was just the building settling," she reasoned with herself. Surely that's all it could be. The building was ancient. If it wanted to settle, let it settle. No one was down there. No one was watching. 

So why did she feel so damnably nervous? The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. All at once, an overwhelming sense of panic washed over her. She felt eyes bearing down on her - hidden eyes coming from the darkness, bearing down on her.

Out of the corner of her eye, something caught her eyes. Something was down there, moving. Two pale yellow eyes were staring straight into her own. 

For a moment, Lana was startled so badly, she almost lost her balance, tumbling off the railing, but she caught herself. She turned to stand on the ground, her heart lurching into a sickening tango. Her eyes flew to the stage.

A figure, draped in shadow slowly began to materialize. It moved forward, taking shape in the faint light. Lana watched in dawning horror. It wasn't so much that the figure walked towards her. It was more like flickering from one shadowy pool to the next. Even though she was still many feet away, she could still make out the old fashioned cloak the man wore. A hat was pulled low over the man's face. Only his glowing yellow eyes were visible. She could feel them staring at her, burring into her skin. 

"...A ghost," she whispered, itching curiosity suddenly overtaking her fear. Throwing caution to the wind, Lana bolted from the box, racing for the stage floor entrance. She wasn't sure what she would do if the ghost was still there by the time she made it, but that didn't really matter at the moment. Hopefully she would figure it out when she got there.

Bursting onto the stage, she searched. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and not just from running. Her breath whistled in and out of her chest as she searched the stage. Part relieved, part disappointed, Lana slowly exhaled. "Damn," she muttered. As she feared, he was already gone.

She walked towards the center of the stage, right about where she guessed the man had stood. Kneeling down, she bent examining the wood. Four cuts along the grain formed an almost invisible square. _A trapdoor..._ Lana had stood on this stage for hours during both practices and performances. Never before had she ever once noticed it before. Her fingers traced over the ancient floor boards. She longed to go down there and see what all the fuss was about. The choice was taken from her, however. There didn't appear to be any way to open it from this side.

"And besides Lana," she chided herself firmly. "Even if you could get down there, you know you're not allowed. Not to mention the fact that you promised Bella." She ran her fingers longingly over the wood one last time. Sighing, she stood back up. It was a long walk home and the night was almost gone.

"Perhaps later Monsieur Fantome," she spoke in perfect French, an ironic smile playing at her lips. She bowed formally to the trapdoor, touching an imaginary top hat at her forehead.

Feeling tired and more than a little weirded out, she set out of her little flat. The moon was hidden behind overcast clouds, but she didn't' mind the darkness. Content in her apparent discovery of a potential ghost, she walked home, a song on her lips. Not once did she notice the shadow that followed close behind, that stopped when she stopped, and moved as silently as the night itself. Perhaps if she had seen the glowing yellow eyes that stalked her steps, her heart might not be so light.

But then again, Lana was always an oddity.

"You saw **_what?!_**" Bella nearly shouted, oblivious of the attention she was garnering in the small crowded cafe.

"Bella, it was just a shadow, I'm sure of it." Lana tried to reason. God only knows what possessed her to mention this to Isabella in the first place. "Besides, I was probably hallucinating. You know I haven't been getting enough sleep here of late."

Bella was not to be placated. "You've seen the ghost. _The Ghost! _And you call it a shadow. Don't you realize how dangerous that thing is? This isn't a game, Lana."

She frowned. "I don't scare easily, Bella, and I know this isn't a game. I'm not treating it as one. Anyway, ghosts don't hurt people. They can't."

"Oh?" Bella countered. "Well this ghost does. If you would have bothered to learn even a hint of history while poking your nose in that place you would have already known that. This fantome kills and has for centuries." She shook her head in disgust, pushing away the basket of fresh croissants.

Lana stifled a long-suffering sigh. She should have known Bella would react like this. Too bad she was her only source of information. "Then tell me, Bella," she coaxed. "Tell me about the ghost."

Bella eyed her suspiciously. "Why do I get the feeling your going to do something stupid?"

"Bella..."

"Oh, alright," she snapped irritably. "I'll tell you what I can." She paused dramatically, gathering her thoughts. It was obvious she didn't want to discuss the opera ghost, yet she couldn't resist the opportunity to be the center of attention. Lana suppressed a grin.

"It's hard to grow up a theater brat without hearing something about the haunted Paris theater. I've probably forgotten more legends than most people ever hear," she mused with a smile. "When the renovations started at the old theater, there were all of these little 'accidents.' Those old stories suddenly didn't seem like stories anymore. I don't know all the details, but I _do_ know that it got people whispering about the ghost again." Her voice trailed off, eyes growing distant.

"Bella," Lana whispered, reaching across the cluttered cafe table to grip her friend's hand. She was surprised that it was ice cold. "Bella, _tell_ me."

"He wasn't always a ghost, you know. They say he was a man once. A horrible, cursed man with the voice of an angel, but the face of a demon."

"Oh, he sounds delightful," Lana couldn't help but quip. "Too bad he wasn't born during the golden age of plastic surgery."

Bella glared. "Did you want me to tell you or not? I know this sounds crazy, but it is what it is. Take it or leave it." 

Lana smiled meekly, waiting patiently for her to continue. Once Bella felt her audience was listening properly, she continued, unconsciously slipping into French. Lana listening with rapt attention, grateful for all the extra practice.

"There are so many legends and stories surrounding the phantom, I'm not really sure where to begin. So, I'll tell you what I believe. The phantom was born around two hundred years ago - that much most stories pretty well agree on. He was born with the gift of music, a gift given to him by God himself. Not even the angels in heaven could sing as pure. But it was more than just singing. Any instrument the boy picked up, he could play. Not just as an amateur, mind you. He could play as if he were a great aged master. His skill was unmatched by any man who had ever walked the earth. But there was a terrible price for this gift. His face was hideous. His face was that of death itself. They say that he was so ugly, even his own mother could not stand to look at him. So, when he was still a small child, she gave him away to the gypsies to use in their freak show."

"My God, that's terrible."

Isabella nodded solemnly, completely absorbed in her story. "It gets worse. The gypsies took good care of him, even if they never let him become one of their own. They gave him a mask to cover his ugly face so that he could move around them without fear of anyone seeing him. Eventually, they gave him freedom of movement throughout their encampment. Some say that the gypsies took him into their confidence, teaching him dark secret magic."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Lana couldn't help but ask.

Bella merely shrugged, continuing on with her story. "As the boy grew to a man, he made one fatal mistake. He fell in love with the gypsy king's daughter. He tried to mesmerize the girl with his voice, enticing her with the beauty of music to replace his own lack. At first, the girl wasn't afraid of him - perhaps the man had learned some magic after all, keeping her enthralled. But one night, something tragic happened."

She paused, taking a sip of her water. Lana, who was sitting on the edge of her chair, knew better than to hurry her. After a dramatic pause, Bella continued.

"On night, the young man tried to lure the enchanted woman to her bed. She came willingly, perhaps enticed by her own morbid curiosity more than anything. When he had her alone, she pulled his mask off before he could stop her. She screamed when she saw his ugliness, alerting the whole camp. The man tried to take his mask back from her, and she lost her balance in the struggle. Somehow when she fell, the gypsy king's daughter hit her head and broke her neck. He had to flee for his life."

"That must have been awful," Lana sighed.

"When the gypsy king found his daughter dead, her cursed the phantom to a life bound in darkness. Until he could win the love of a woman, he would be forever banished from the light."

Lana shivered, remembering how the ghost appeared to move from shadow to shadow. Perhaps Bella wasn't so far from the truth no matter how outlandish her story seemed.

"They say that after his banishment, the man traveled the world studying science, mathematics. I've even heard rumors that he became a great architect while spending time in Persia and the middle east, always staying in the shadows."

"Like a vampire?" Lana grinned.

"Maybe something like that, who knows. But about the architecture thing - some people say that the ghost actually helped build the theatre himself."

"You're kidding," Lana murmured, enjoying the story now. It was unbelievable, but Bella was having a good time telling it.

"Well, I guess it's because the phantom loved music first and foremost, you know. Perhaps that's why he chose to reside in the bowels of the opera. Can't you imagine the phantom being their when the opera was first built, creating his own underground kingdom?"

The thought was a little disturbing, now that she mentioned it, Lana realized. "Is that why we're forbidden down there?"

Bella stared, her amber eyes completely serious. "Make no mistake, chere. _He _still owns that underground labyrinth, just as he always has. But let me finish my story. It's not quiet over yet. In the late 1800's, there was a singer - a beautiful young singer who caught the man's eye. He taught her to sing. To _really_ sing. She was just a chorus girl at the time, but when he was through with her, she was the new prima dona. He gave her the gift of music. All he wanted in return was love. But love was something the girl could never give because she had already given her heart to another man. A young, filthy rich viscount."

"How sad," Lana murmured.

"Sad?" Bella repeated, incredulous. "That treacherous bitch made the man crazy, my dear. Up until then, the ghost had never harmed a soul - well, if you ignore the little incident with the gypsy king's daughter and all those rumors of all the time he spent in Arabia. But after that singer turned his world upside down, there have been at least five different murders attached to his name and at least two disappearances."

"Disappearances?" Lana asked skeptically. "Let me guess, it was the singing trollop and her boyfriend." 

Bella raised her eyebrows as if to say "Yeah, and what of it." Lana swallowed, suddenly speechless.

"Haven't you ever heard of the accident with the great chandelier?"

Lana shook her head no.

"Well, one night during the heart of a performance, the chandelier came crashing down, killing at least one person. The investigators later found that the rope had been cut. Apparently the managers at the time were threatened by an O.G. if they did not premier his little protege that evening. When they refused, he punished them." She shook her head in disgust. "Make no mistake, Lana. The man was a murderer in life. What on earth makes you think he wouldn't be in death? Why do you think I've been begging you since day one to stay out of the catacombs?"

The bell tower struck eleven making both girls jump. Bella laughed good naturedly, dropping a few bills on the table to cover their check. Neither girl had eaten anything, but now Lana's stomach was too unsettled to even try.

"Oh, before I forget," Bella said as they hurried down the Rue de Pais towards the Opera. "My parents are throwing a party this weekend. The managers and all the investors are supposed to come. It would be an excellent chance for you to make a name for yourself, you know?

Lana smiled weakly. "You know parties really aren't my thing."

Bella sighed her own little sigh of long-suffering. "If you don't learn to _make_ them your thing, you can kiss ever leaving the chorus behind."

"I'll think about it."

Without another word, the pair hurried towards the looming theater. Once inside, they went their seperate ways, involving themselves in their own individual worlds of ballet and song.

It would be two sleepless nights later before Lana saw the ghost again.

A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter - please please keep reviewing. I know I've left several unanswered questions. Trust me, everything will be clear before too much longer.


	5. Chapter 3 The Violin

After a full day of practices, rehearsals, then a high stress performance, Lana wanted nothing more than a hot bath. By the time she changed in her dressing room before padding to the lavish bathroom, the theater had already almost completely emptied. It was Friday evening after all. The afterglow parties were in full swing.

Sunk up to her chin in bubbles, alone in the opera house, Lana couldn't be more satisfied. Isabella once again invited her to some high brow social gathering her family was sponsoring and was once again disappointed at her friend's refusal to join. The thought of rubbing shoulders with the managers, critics, and celebrities frankly made Lana want to puke. Too much social stress. Heaving a contented sigh, she leaned her head back, basking in the silence.

Except, she suddenly realized, it wasn't exactly silent. Ever so faintly, the sound of a lone violin played like a gentle breeze, music so delicate and intangible. Looking back later, Lana never knew what possessed her to try and track down the source. What she did know was that the music - so simple yet so unearthly - called her. She could no more deny its beckoning than a sailor to the siren's song.

When the first few notes toyed with her ears, Lana's eyes flew open. Without a moment's consideration, she climbed out of the tub, quickly toweling off. Luckily, she had already swept her thick black curls into a bun, so she wasn't slowed down by wet hair. Somehow, she intrinsically knew the song would not last long. Her clothes were back on in a flash, the simple black t-shirt clinging to her still damp skin. Lana paid it no mind. Her thoughts were only on the violin.

She ran through the corridors using only her ears as a guide. The sound came from all directions, constantly moving. Sometimes is seemed the player was ahead of her, sometimes behind. She hurried all the same. The violin beckoned her to follow.

Lana moved faster and faster finally breaking into a run. The music was rising into a heart rending crescendo, filling her ears with it's cry. For a moment, she almost covered her ears, unable to take any more of it's strange song. She feared her heart might burst if she listened.

Yet she ran on.

She bounded up a flight of stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. The music filled her mind so completely, she had no idea where it was taking her. Finally, the song slowed to an ending. Lana was close now. Bending over, she tried to catch her breath as she glanced around. She was surprised to find herself standing on familiar ground - the stage. The lights were left on for her again, and she was glad for it. As her eyes swept the theater searching for the mysterious player, her heart skipped a beat.

The trapdoor was open.

Lana swallowed, the hair on the back of her neck standing straight up. Suddenly, the overwhelming feeling of being watched washed over her. It was like the night when she had first seen the ghost.

Still the violin beckoned. It was only a whisper now, yet it beckoned just the same.

The rational thing to do was run like hell. Of course, no one ever accused Lana of being rational. The over curious so seldom are, though. Her innate curiosity simply wouldn't let her off the hook. She stepped forward, moving resolutely towards the trap door. When she stood before the gaping hole in the stage floor, she kneeled down. She peered into the darkness, trying to penetrate the inky blackness, but could see nothing. The violin had shifted. She knew now that the sound was coming from below. If she wanted to find the player, she would have to follow him into the catacombs. Even now, the music faded, beckoning her to follow.

For a moment she kneeled there poised, conflicted. Part of her demanded she follow, while the rest of her mind screamed in protest. It wasn't fear that gave her pause. Oddly enough, all of her fear dissolved away into a strange sense of longing. She wanted, no she _needed_ to see who was down there - **_what_** was down there. But she had promised...

"Don't," a male voice spoke in heavily accented English.

Surprise made Lana lose her balance. Just when she thought she would tumble into the black hole below, a strong hand grabbed her from behind, helping her to her feet.

"It's too dangerous mademoiselle. I would not want to see you harmed."

Lana slowly turned to face her helper/assailant - she hadn't decided what the man was yet. Looking into his face, she wasn't sure what surprised her more: a) the face that the guy knew enough about her to speak in English, b) the guy was creeping around the theater late or night, or c) the guy was an incredibly sexy frenchman with an amazing body. Once she got past her initial shock, she suddenly realized she recognized the guy. She had seen him once before standing in the manager's entourage on La Marguerite's first day on the job. He was the stud muffin who was watching her from afar that day. So what was he doing here now...

The man was watching her curiously, his expression a mixture of worry and some other unreadable emotion. Lana realized his hands were still on her shoulders. His proximity wasn't the only thing making her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Blushing, she took a step away from him.

"I wasn't going to go down there you know," she informed him, embarrassment making her sound irritable. And she really wasn't - not really. She had pretty much decided that for herself before _he_ came along.

The man raised on skeptical eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "That's not what it looked like to me, Lana."

Alarm bells began screaming their warnings inside her head. She didn't like the idea of this guy knowing things about her when she knew nothing about him. It made her feel strangely vulnerable. "And you know my name how?"

The guy watched her closely, his gaze intense. She didn't know how long she could hold up under such intense scrutiny. Even in the dim light, she could see that his eyes were a dark, smoky gray. He smiled, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. "How rude of me to not introduce myself," he murmured. "I am Louis Moncharmont d'Bienne, cherie," He bowed at the waist with a flourish looking strangely old fashioned. Lana almost laughed at the absurdity. She couldn't resist a small smile. The man reached out and took her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. "And you are Lana, the American soprano."

She took her hand back from his, eyeing him warily. "You still haven't answered my question, monsieur."

"Louis," he corrected.

"That too. Now _how_ do you know my name?"

"Are you always this defensive with strangers, or have in some way offended you?" He paused for a moment, considering her with his smoky eyes. Lana had to fight back the urge to shift from foot to foot nervously under that gaze. She was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the man's masculine presence. She wasn't accustomed to catching the attention of men so damnably handsome.

"Monsieur, I..."

"Please call me Louis," he corrected again.

Lana sighed. "Louis," she continued. "I'm sorry if I seem rude. You startled me, that's all."

He smiled, seeming to accept this answer. "Look, I'm the rude one. I realize how odd it must seem for me to approach you so late at night, but you're not an easy one to reach. Bella told me I might find you here."

"_Bella_ told you what?" Lana backed up, instantly suspicious.

Louis must have sensed that, because he began to speak in rapid French. "I saw you during practice one day, as I think you might already know. I'm an investor here at the opera, good friends with the managers. That's how I know Bella's family too. When I saw you at practice that day, I knew I wanted to meet you. Lucky for me, Bella knows everyone around here, bless her chatty little soul. She kept promising to bring you for weeks now, but you never came."

"You've been asking about me for weeks?" She could feel her cheeks burning bright red with growing embarrassment. "Bella never mentioned anything about it."

He smiled, moving forward to close the gap between them. Lana unconsciously moved back. "I asked her not to. When I finally gave up hope of meeting you, she told me where I could find you." Again he stepped forward. Lana was too close to the trapdoor for her to move. "Do all Americans enjoy creeping around theaters late at night?" She could see that he was joking, but she was already to off-guard to appreciate the jest.

"I _wasn't_ creeping, as you so mildly put it. I was following the violin."

"You were following the what?" He stared at her oddly.

"Didn't you hear it when you snuck up on me?

"No actually I didn't and I did _not_ sneak up on you."

"Oh, we're both just a big pile of denial, aren't we?" He had to have heard the music, she reasoned. Why would he lie about it?

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. She had no idea how she could have thought he was only in his twenties. Seeing him up close, she could tell that he was older than that. Thirty at the very least, but an extremely young thirty. When he smiled like that, though it made him look almost boyish. She could stare all day at a smile like that. Instead, she turned her face away. What if he really didn't hear the violin. She knew she wasn't crazy, but could she be hearing things?

Louis reached out to caress her cheek, a move that made her instinctively flinch. She could tell that her reaction was not what he expected.

"Why do I make you so nervous," he murmured softly, his low, deep voice like fine silk. At some point, he had switched back to English. His heavy French accent made her toes want to curl. He moved even closer, his body only inches away from her own. A strand of hair had fallen loose of the leather thong which held it back. Lana longed to reach back and push that thick, black strand back behind his ear. She had never felt so attracted to a guy in all of her life. His proximity was making her crazy. "I'm not going to hurt you, Lana. There's no reason to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid," her lie feeling transparent on her lips. "It's just that I'm not sure what you want from me." The air in the cavernous theater seemed unnaturally still and oppressive. She struggled to breath.

He grinned at this. One hand moved to touch her cheek again. She didn't flinch this time against his touch. "All I want is to kiss your hand and say hello, mademoiselle Lana. And I have already done what I came for. Everything else is up to you."

She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, but could think of nothing to say.

"It's late. You and I should both be going." Louis was watching her again with that strange intensity which did nothing to ease her nervousness. "I'd like to see you again," he murmured.

Lana's heart was beating out a wild staccato. Surely he could hear it. "Goodnight Monsieur Louis," she whispered through a dry mouth.

He arched an eyebrow, amused at her formality. He reached out, claiming her hand once again in his own. She didn't resist when he slowly lowered his mouth, gently kissing her palm. His lips lingered on her skin for a moment, savoring the faint smell of her perfume.

Lana's breath caught in her throat. His breath was warm and moist, the kiss tantalizingly soft. After what felt like an eternity he lifted his head, capturing her eyes with his own. "Goodnight Mademoiselle. Please promise that you will not be too long in leaving. It worries me to think of you alone in the darkness so late at night."

"I won't," she mumbled through numb lips. She had to fight back a sigh of relief when he turned to walk away. The man had committed murder to her poor, shattered nerves. She stood there, her heart raging with conflicting emotions. Never in her life had a man devastated her senses so completely. He was handsome, yes, but at the same time, she still felt uneasy. She simply didn't trust him.

Lana glanced at her watched, dismayed to see that it was already well after midnight. She was spending too many late nights chasing after something that may or may not even be there. Her eyes strayed again to the dark chasm left by the trapdoor. What she saw froze the blood in her veins.

Staring out of the darkness were two glowing, yellow eyes. Even in the dim light, she could feel the outrage and fury that radiated from whatever creature lived below. Before she could even cry out in shock, the trapdoor slammed shut with a crash so loud it sounded like a rifle, echoing over and over again.

Lana screamed, turning to flee in terror.

That night she dreamed -

__

Someone was calling for. Someone who loved her, someone who needed her was calling out for her. She wanted to reach him. She tried to go to him, but something was holding her back. Snippets of Bella's story took on their own nightmarish proportions. Suddenly she was the girl who stole the gift of music from the opera ghost. It was she who denied her love to the man with the violin.

She was running again down the dark, shadow passages inside the theater. The man who loved her was calling out to her. She wanted to go to him, no she needed to go to him, but she couldn't find the way. A door was before her. She opened it. Louis was there, his arms outstretched. Surely, he was the man she was searching for. She started to go to him, but held back. When she hesitated, her struck out at her. His mouth was lined with jagged teeth, hands armed with wolf like claws. He tore her body to shreds, laughing a high pitched cry.

Then He was there - the man with the violin. He lifted her up, taking her high into the rafters where no man could reach them.

When she finally awoke, her eyes were wet with weeping. The soft moans of the forsaken ghost still crying in her ears...Remember me....Remember me...

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me all you loverly reviewers. Never fear phantom lovers...Erik is coming very soon...very soon indeed : )


	6. Chapter 4 The House by the Lake

Lana sat in her dressing room still clothed in the tight gold lame Egyptian costume from that evening's performance. The entire night was nothing but a series of catastrophes - one disaster right after another. It began with a misplace costume, followed by a hectic scramble to reach the stage on cue. Somehow or another, she had managed to lose her place - something fairly easy to do underneath the heavy stage lights. Lana had practiced and practiced and practiced, but in the confusion of the moment, she still managed to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Disastor was inevitable.

La Marguerite's unfortunate crash with the ill placed chorus girl, unavoidable.

The fact that the prima dona most certainly was even now calling for her dismissal did nothing to help soothe Lana's embarrassment. What worried her the most was knowing that the managers would have absolutely no good reason not to let her go.

Lana couldn't help it. She knew sitting there having her own little pity party would do nothing to help the situation, yet she could no more stop the tears that burned behind her eyes than stop the rain from falling.

__

...Don't cry... a voice like a whispering breath of air echoed in her mind. ..._Don't cry..._

Lana held her breath, suddenly keenly aware that she was not alone in her dressing room. The voice wasn't just in her mind, she had heard it with her ears. Perhaps the ghost finally decided to pay her a visit. Her skin prickled at the thought.

Bella barged into the room, chattering in rapid french. "Lana, ma cherie, I came as soon as I heard." Her pretty face crumpled in worry. She tossed the bag she wore over her shoulder onto the floor then hurried to her friend's side. When she noticed the tearstains still lingering on Lana's face, Bella sighed dramatically, fishing a rumpled lace handkerchief out of her jeans pocket. "Don't cry my love. It isn't so bad as you think."

Whatever presence might have been here before was long gone now. Lana fought back a moment of frustration, immediately pushing the thought away. Bella was only trying to help after all. And at the rate she was going, she wouldn't have much time left at the opera to fiddle with ghosts anymore regardless. She tried to suppress a little sigh. Hopefully the managers would give her a decent severance package.

Bella was still chattering, Lana realized. Perhaps she was trying to soother her with words. "...besides, you have a friend now in high places, no? He wouldn't allow anything to happen to your position here, trust me."

"_Who_ wouldn't allow anything to happen?" Lana asked, wondering if she could possibly be talking about the opera ghost.

"Louis, of course. He the number one financier of the theater. The managers would be crazy to cross him even if it meant losing La Marguerite."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Slow down." Bella's almost non stop chatter came to an abrupt stop. She was speaking so fast, Lana couldn't comprehend let alone understand. "Why would Louis give a damn about my position at the opera?" His name felt strange in her mouth. Just at the brief mention of the man, a swarm of emotions attacked her. Her cheeks burned where his fingers had caressed her skin, yet her mind again raised it's warning. She still couldn't trust the man, even if she didn't understand why.

Bella was looking at her as if she were a dim witted drooling inmate at some asylum. "Are all American's as blissfully ignorant as you, or are you just a special case? I'm asking this in all honesty here. You're the first one I've ever met."

"Can we cut the sarcasm, Bella? You're hurting my tender ego."

That earned a grin. At least Bella was looking at her as if she were an idiot anymore. "I figured it was pretty obvious, Lana. He said he ran into you two nights ago and you two hit it off quite well. Maybe he didn't make himself clear."

Lana held back an irritated groan. "What? He has a similar interest in quiet nights of silent contemplations in the theater weighed against a healthy penchant for scaring young girls in the dark?"

"What?!" Bella blinked in confusion, her lips curling into an outright grimace. Lana had to resist the urge to giggle. "No, you fool. He _likes_ you. He finds you pretty. He wants to do the horizontal mambo with you."

"And I like him too. Not enough to dance with him, but I'm sure he'll understand."

Balla practically howled in despair. "Don't you understand anything?!" She searched her friend's face, a shrewd expression dawning in her eyes. "Yes, I think you do understand. You just choose not to for some bizarre little reason. Not that this should come as any surprise considering you prefer dust balls to parties. Of course it means nothing to you that France's most wealthy, powerful bachelor has taken a fancy to you. All you seem to care about lately is your precious ghost."

Lana looked away, suddenly angry. What right did she have to judge? "Bella, I wouldn't care if the King of Europe knocked on my door with a glass slipper. I don't need to complicate my life anymore than it already is. If Louis helps me, I'll be sure to thank him, but I'll have to pass on any mambo offers."

It was obvoious from Bella's expression that she was getting angry herself. "Well I say you're a fool - a suicidal fool. A man like Louis can make you a star. You're not even giving the man a chance. Perhaps you should at least consider being friendly with him before you begin all your mindless rejections."

She shouldered her bag, preparing to leave. Her hand paused on the doorknob. "Lana," her voice was soft now, her anger spent. With Bella, she was quick to anger, quick to forgive. "Lana, I didn't come here to fight with you. I was only worried..."

"I know," Lana stood, placing a hand on Bella's back, "and I'm sorry if I've been distant. You know how stressful things have been."

"Still not sleeping?" she murmured.

Lana shook her head.

Bella's brow furrowed in worry then just as quickly brightened. "Well if you're not tired, there's a group of us meeting at La Mizzereti - one of my favorite clubs. You come and I'll buy the drinks."

"Maybe tomorrow night, Bella," she said, trying to sound like she meant it. "After tonight's excitement, I just want to go to bed."

"No exploring?"

"No exploring," she promised, blissfully unaware of what the night had in store.

As soon as Bella shut the door behind her, Lana pulled off her costume. She managed to yank on a plain white t-shirt before collapsing on the low settee set against one of the walls. Lana wasn't exaggerating earlier - she was exhausted. Closing her eyes she fell immediately into a fitful sleep.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

She awoke several hours later feeling groggy and disoriented. In her dream, the ghost was calling to her - a mysterious shadow with the voice of a violin. When she slowly became aware, she thought the violin had followed her. It suddenly dawned on her what she was hearing. The dream became reality.

The ghost was calling her.

Lana's mouth ran dry, her skin prickling with gooseflesh. It wasn't fear she felt. Not exactly. And it was much more than simple curiosity. There was a need, pure a simple, to heed the ghost's call. Without hesitation, she jumped from the couch. Yanking on jeans, her fingers stumbled over the button in her anxiousness. She tried not to hurry as she walked through the dim corridors. Lana knew the ghost would wait for her to come. But first, there was a pit stop she had to make. Close to the stage, there was a small closet where the stagehands stored equipment. Usually the door was kept locked. Luck was on her side tonight. The closet had been left unlocked. Monsieur Percy would be displeased to know his underlings had been so lax. Hopefully for their sake, h e would never notice a missing flashlight. The cold metal casing felt cool in her hands, it's solid weight comforting. Sticking it into her back pocket, Lana followed the violin.

As before, the music led her onto the dimly lit stage. It was no surprise to see that once again the trap door was left opened for her. There were countless ways to enter the catacombs underneath the theater. For some reason, however, the ghost seemed determined that she enter this way. Looking down into the dark pit, Lana almost lost her nerve. She half expected to see two glaring, yellow eyes staring at her in the darkness. There was nothing there. Faintly, she could still here the violin calling to her in the dark. Switching on the flashlight, she shone a beam of light into the trapdoor. A ladder was connected to the side that looked sturdy enough. Taking a deep breath, she stooped down, testing her weight on the first few rungs. Lana swallowed. For her to safely hold onto the ladder, she would need to put the flashlight in her pocket until she made it to the floor.

She knew it was stupid. She knew it was dangerous. And yet she knew it was something she had to do even if she didn't completely understand. Gritting her teeth, Lana switched off the flashlight, descending the ladder into darkness.

She climbed down at least fifteen feet before her feet finally touched the floor. Immediately switching on the flashlight, she scanned her surroundings. Several centuries worth of dust accumulated on the filthy floor. Footprints were left on the floor here and there, probably the left by the army of renovators. So far, Lana was not overly impressed with her surroundings. The room was full of moldering set pieces, decaying costumes, long forgotten relics of the distant past. Lana tried to see ahead, but the room was far to vast to see an end. Her ears strained to catch the fading violin.

For a moment, she hesitated. It wasn't too late to run, she realized, yet her decision was already made. Gripping her flashlight tightly in one hand, she moved further into the darkness. She walked steadily forward dodging the occasion pile of forgotten rubbish. Ancient cobwebs hung from the ceiling, covering her skin in grime. Several times, the sound of rats moving in the distance almost sent her packing. Always, it seemed, right before she lost her nerve the violin would resurface to beckon her forward.

After what felt like a lifetime, she came across a narrow, steep stairway leading straight down. The music was faint, but there was no mistaking that it came from down there. She descended, careful to keep a trembling hand on the grimy railing for balance. The last thing she needed was to fall down here. The next room she entered, the ceiling felt lower, the walls more close together. Her flashlight picked up the rusted remains of the antediluvian heating system. Enormous ovens fitted with thick iron pipes filled the passageway. Centuries ago, men would have to work down here, constantly filling the giant ovens with coal in order to heat the opera house. She shuddered at the thought of tending these ancient flames. Lana wasted no time in this room, hurrying through it.

She continued on, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Soon the room opened up into a strange, winding pathway that spiraled lower into the catacombs. Again, the violin summoned her lower, deeper into the heart of the underground. Lana felt like she had been walking for hours, but her watch had only moved half of one. Her nerves were wound so tightly she feared she might scream. It wasn't the ghost which frightened her, but the terror of being lost, alone in the darkness.

Soon enough, the pathway leveled out, opening into an open cavern. Lana shone her flashlight all around her, but could see neither the ceiling nor the distant wall. The room was so vast, it was hard to believe that a place like this could be _underneath_ the opera house.

Silence settled over her like a mantle. The violin had finally stopped it's playing. Lana held her breath, listening - straining to hear any sign of music. That was when the flashlight flickered. For the first time, true terror seized her heart. "Oh no baby, please don't do this to me," she begged, her voice sounding strained and frightened in her own ears. The flashlight flickered again. "Please, please, please, don't do this." It flickered once more before going out completely.

For a moment, she just stood there, too numb with shock to know what else to do. What does one do when they find themselves suddenly stranded in darkness, far away from help? No one knew she was down here. She had promised too many times for people to think she was down here. Considering her solitary nature, it might be days before anyone came to look for her.

Lana's breath whistled in and out of her lungs as panic set in. In her fear, she had forgotten all about the violin, the music, the unknown ghost who played it. Until she heard his voice. A voice so beautiful, so unearthly. Even as it whispered, the voice banished all fear from her mind. "You are far from home child. Why have you come to this dead, forgotten place?"

For a moment, Lana was so confused by this simple question, she wasn't sure hot to answer. The voice echoed from all around. It was impossible to tell where it came from.

"I'm not sure," she whispered.

"You've come to see the ghost perhaps? Come to torment the souls of the waking dead? Did you wish to laugh at the hideous corpse perchance? To stand one the grave of Erik, laughing at his fate? Was the thought of glimpsing his repulsive face to much for you to resist?" The voice rose from a faint whisperer to a thunderous roar.

Someone was trying to scare her, Lana realized. She could never stand being bullied. The louder the voice rose, the angrier she became. "The music called for me," she spoke firmly, her own voice rising. This was no time for meek whispers. "The ghost called for me."

The voice spoke again, still mocking, but at least it was no longer a shout. "And do you wish so badly to find what you seek?"

She thought of herself standing alone in the darkness hopelessly far from help. "I'm still not sure what I'm doing here, but I've come too far to turn back now. The music called for me - I answered." Her words echoed through the cavern, resounding in her own mind.

..._the music called - ai snwered...._

The voice paused, weighing her words. Lana could sense an internal struggle going on inside of the unseen stranger. Finally, he sighed - a sound so beautiful it made her soul ache. It was hard to believe that the voice which taunted her could also make such sounds. He whispered softly to himself, so softly that Lana could barely hear. "The past is doomed to repeat itself."

Just when she thought the voice decided to abandon her, she heard the sound of someone approaching. Her breath caught in her throat. Out of the black wall of darkness, Lana could see two glowing yellow eyes moving closer and closer.

__

The ghost!! Her heart lurched in her chest.

The man came close, standing only a few feet away. He was tall, she noted. Only his pale yellow eyes were visible, but she could tell that he was looking down at her. It was an unnerving feeling to know that in the midst of this darkness, this man could stare straight at her.

"Do you still wish so badly to see the ghost, mademoiselle?" His voice was gentle now, no longer mocking. "It's not too late for met o show you the way to safety."

If this was the ghost. If this was the man who had called for her, then why the hell was he trying to push her away? _'First he tries to scare me, then to take me back,' _her mind wondered.

The man took another step forward, closing the gap between them. "You're frightened, child. I can hear you tremble."

"It's only the darkness," she whispered, her chin raised defiantly. She had no idea what was going, but she would be damned to leave before finding out. To prove her point, she lifted her hand, reaching out for the man. Cool, strong fingers encircled her wrist, drawing her forward.

"If you are so determined, can I truly stop you?" he mused more to herself than to her. "Come then. I will lead you."

The hand that held her own was strong and firm. She didn't hesitate when the stranger led her forward through the darkness, trusting him to keep her pathway clear. His back must have been turned to her, she guessed. She could no longer see his yellow eyes upon her. Closing her own, she tried not to think about the suffocating blackness all around. In the distance, the sound of a rat made her skin crawl. She must have tensed her hand, for the man turned to look back at her.

"We're almost here," his melodic voice promised.

"No problemo. Lead on, Kemosabe." She did her best to sound as fearless as possible, hoping she succeeded.

Turning, he lead her on. It felt like they had walked several hundred feet before he finally stopped. After a brief pause, he whispered to her through the gloom. "Step carefully now, mademoiselle. I will guide you, but I would not want you to fall."

Lana swallowed hard, an image of her tumbling into pitch black darkness filling her again with terror. He began to move forward, her hand still in his own, but she hesitated.

"What's the matter, child?" The man's voice turned harsh. "Have you lost your desire to the see the face of the ghost. Where is your precious female curiosity now?"

His taunting was cruel and unfair, but more than anything it was u unwarranted. As if things weren't confusing enough, it would seem her tour guide had mood swings. "Stop it," she ordered, sounding firmer than she intended. Her voice echoed through the cavern. "Have I offended you in some past life? If so, I'm sorry. Now that that's out of the way, do you think we can continue on with a little bit more courtesy?"

She paused, her heart hammering in her chest. The man said nothing, his face turned away. "It's dark," she whispered. "I'm not afraid, I just can't see. I don't want to fall."

For the moment, the only sound Lana heard was the distant trickle of water. Her companion kept silent. Just when she felt she could bear it no longer, he turned. Again, she felt his eyes upon her. Part of her wondered what she must look like to him. The rest didn't care at all. She wanted out of this nightmare. She wanted back into the light.

Without saying a word, the man released her hand, but did not move away. Instead, he took a step forward, standing only inches away from her body. Lana felt a hand encircle her waist, drawing her against him. As soon as his hand touched her body, all fear was gone. No man had ever touched her so intimately in her life, yet here was a man who was a complete stranger. She had already trusted him more than she had every trusted anyone other than her father. She had no time to marvel this mystery. His voice disrupted her silent contemplations.

"I will not let you fall, ma petite. You are right to be frightened of the darkness. It was cruel of me to make you walk at all." His voice grew incredibly soft, it's sound caressing her ears, curling her toes. She offered no resistance when he kneeled down to sweep her up into his arms. "You will not fall, cherie. I will carry you." He cradled her gently in his arms, holding her small body against his own. Lana wrapped her arms around the strangers neck, awed at her complete and utter lack of fear for this man. Nothing could describe how she felt at that moment. When he held her in his arms, there was such an overwhelming feeling of rightness. For the first time in her life, everything was okay.

When he finally set her down, Lana couldn't hold back the small sigh that escaped her lips. He had placed her on what felt like a wooden seat that rocked underneath her. The sound of gently lapping water came from all around. Lana leaned over, arm outstretched. Cool water wet her fingers. "A boat," she whispered.

It rocked unsteadily when the man climbed inside across from her. Lana could feel his yellow eyes watching. After a moment, she heard him moving what sounded like wooden oars, dipping them into the water. Slowly, the boat began to glide across the still lake. In the distance, she was delighted to see a faint glowing light. The closer they moved to the now visible shore, the more she could see. The lake was vast, yet undeniably still underground. She could almost make out the soaring ceiling overhead. Her eyes returned to the man. He was almost visible now, a dark hulking shape rowing the narrow boat. His face was turned away, watching the pale waters.

The approaching shore loomed ahead, awash with lights. Lana held her breath. There was a small building, no - not quite a building, the thought. It was a house. The house glowed with light like a lighthouse calling to the seafarers. It all seemed so magical, like something out of a fairy tale.

The boat pulled up next to a short wooden dock. The man leaped nimbly up out of the boat onto the dock. Watching him move was eerie. He possessed something much more than grace. There was an easy familiarity in his movements as if he had truly moved in and out of this boat for centuries.

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Quit watching him, she ordered. _You've got to worry about getting yourself out of this thing without making an ass of yourself_. She had never in her life been on a boat before. It's faint rocking left her feeling unbalanced.

She needn't worry. Before she could even attempt to stand, the man turned, lifting her out easily, setting her to stand beside him. She tried to smile and thank him, but the man had already turned away. He walked down the dock towards the house.

Confused and unnerved, Lana had no choice but to follow.

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A/N: Hope you guys like it. Thanks again all you nice reviewers!


	7. Chapter 5 Erik

"Who are you?" Lana asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

She had followed the man inside the strange house by the lake underneath the Paris Opera. The bright lights inside beckoned her to enter. Once inside, Lana was shocked by what she found. The house was an eclectic mixture of modern fused with antique. Modern florescent lights hung from the ceiling. Ancient gas lamps sat on delicate end tables burning bright orange flames. Here and there were chairs and piled cushions all harking from an age that must have been older than her father's father. Dominating the room sat an elderly grand piano still in perfect shape. While it was strange, everything seemed to have it's place. It felt like she was standing in a preserved Victorian home now turned into a museum.

And here was her tour guide now.

The man was ignoring her question. From underneath the heavy trench coat he wore, he took out a violin setting it on an empty end table. Without acknowledging her, he seated himself at the piano facing her for the first time since they entered the house. His amber eyes focused on the keyboard. Lana noticed that the man wore a mask made of some dark cloth that completely covered the top half of his face. No wonder when she had glimpsed him all those times before she could only see his eyes.

He began to play , fingers not so much moving over the keyboard but caressing them. Touching them with a deep familiarity only time could bring. Music, sweeter than honey flowed towards her ears. For a moment, Lana was overcome with emotion. She had never heard music so full of passion, so full of sorrow in all of her life. She simply stood there, unable to do anything but listen. The music moved _through_ her.

The man was watching her, his eyes filling with anger. "Who am I?" his spoke, filing her ears with his haunting voice, blending so achingly beautifully with the piano. The fury in his voice was palpable. "I am death, my love. I am pain. I am sorrow." As he spoke, the music changed. Anger replaced sorrow. Fury replaced passion. Now that they were in the light, his eyes no longer glowed. Yet now, they _burned_. He looked at her with his smoldering eyes, boring into her soul.

"You ask me who am I, do you?" His voice rose, fingers pounding furiously at the piano. "Do you not realize you stand in the prescence of a monster? A murderer? Can you not comprehend that I am nothing but a ghost of a man who was nothing but a demon? That I have killed, and could kill again. That I could kill you if I chose, drown you in the lake perhaps, without a moment's consideration."

His glared at her in undisguised hatred and fury. Lana stood there bearing the weight of his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She felt like an actress thrown upon the stage without knowing her part. Everything felt scripted, written out before she was aware, set down and cast into stone. He was angry, yes. He was furious. Still, _she did not fear this man. _How she knew this, Lana would never understand, but know it she did.

She kept her voice firm, steadily meeting his gaze. "Stop trying to frighten me. You're not going to hurt me. We both know that."

This seemed to ignite his temper even more. Faster than she would have thought possible, he flew to his feet crossing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. He did not touch her, though by the expression in his eyes, she thought he was tempted to wring her neck.

"And who would stop me if I do?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"You're not going to Erik," Lana whispered.

Even though the mask partially covered his face, she could still see the surprise written there. It was obvious he did not expect to hear his name from her lips.

"You said your name earlier," she explained. "You asked if I wished to see the grave of Erik. But there's not a grave, is there? Just like there is no ghost."

He was standing so close to her now. Close enough to touch if he wished it. Lana longed for him to reach out and touch her cheek as Louis had done the other night.

Louis.

She viciously pushed all thoughts of him out of her mind.

Erik turned away, his head lowered in thought. Lana had been right - he was a large man. It was more than just height - Erik was broad and muscular. He still wore a heavy trench coat that covered his entire body from shoulders to feet. It was so long, in fact, that its hem brushed the floor. Underneath, she could see more modern clothing. A warm cable knit sweater. Dark black trousers. Erik wore his hair long, spilling out over his shoulders in a pale cascade. It looked so soft and fine, she longed to run her fingers through those tresses.

Even with his back to her, she could still see how tense Erick was. Every muscle coiled so tightly, she expected him to spring any moment. The longer she stayed in his presence, the harder he pushed her away. Why was he reacting to her like this? It was obvious he didn't want her here. His body screamed for her to leave.

"Why did you call me here if you didn't want me to come?" she wondered, trying unsuccessfully to keep the hurt she felt out of her voice. She had never met this man before now, yet his rejection wounded her deeply.

Erik stood there silently, his back still to her. "Why scare me?" Lana asked, moving to stand closer. "Why push me away? What have I done that's made you so angry? And if I have angered you, why did you bother to call me?"

"Because," his voice barely rose above a whisper. "Because I couldn't _not_ call for you."

Lana could sense the raging storm of emotions that battled inside his troubled soul. The last thing she would ever want to do was cause this strange man pain.

"I did not wish to draw you into this dark world of mine. But it is as you said - the music called, you answered. I could not more stop myself from bringing you here than you could have denied my siren's song. We are bound together, you and I. Nothing can stop the will of fate. Not even a relic of the past like myself."

His back was still to her, rigid, completely strait. Tension charged the air with tangible energy. She diffused it with an easy laugh. "Are you always this cryptic, Erik, or just for me?"

He whirled about to face her, searching her eyes for mockery. Finding none, he relaxed if only slightly.

"You still haven't told me who you are," she gently reminded.

"Do you wish to know so badly?" he sighed. The girl was of an inquisitive nature - he should have known. "I am Erik, and have lived underneath the Paris Opera for over two hundred years. You are correct. I am not a ghost, but neither am I living."

Lana's eyes widened slightly, his vague words sparking her curiosity. She wasn't sure whether to believe him or call for the padded police, realizing it didn't' matter one way or the other. "You were cursed..." sh e ventured, remembering bits and pieces of Bella's story.

Erik eyed her carefully, watching her through guarded eyes. He laughed once, harsh. "There are many curses, my dear. More than the kind you're imagining, I'm certain. Regardless, I have no wish to dig up the past tonight."

He walked towards her. Lana tensed, hoping for his touch. Erik walked past, careful not to touch her, then seated himself at the piano. He took a breath as if he were about to speak then paused, considering his words. "If I have given you offense earlier, I beg you to forgive me. It's been too long since I've been in civilized conversation."

Lana took a step forward. He was avoiding her eyes again, unwilling to look at her. "It's not a problem..."

He interrupted. "Good. Now that you are here, cherie, we can begin our true business for the night. It's far past time we began scales."

"Scales?"

"Music scales," he explained, fingers dancing up the octaves for added emphasis. "They do teach scales in remedial voice nowadays, do they not?"

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...he gave her the gift of his music, yet she denied him the one thing he desired...her heart...

Lana's face grew pale. "No."

A wry smile crossed his lips. Erik shook his head in amusment. "I've heard you sing. You're quite talented, petite, but far from, shall we say, perfected. You've got more potential, though, than any other soprano I've ever heard, and from me that is a monumental compliment and I never compliment. With only a little practice you can outshine that Spanish pig the fools of managers currently have on the stage. Now if you're done stalling, we can begin."

Against her will, the face of Louis appeared before her again. She remembered how her body responded to his touch. Angrily, she pushed these thoughts away. "No," she insisted. "I won't use you. I didn't come here to learn from you. I..."

"...You came because I called, yes I know," he finished for her. Erik lifted his head to study her face. A flurry of emotions crossed his own before his eyes again returned to the keyboard. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "I called you to me so that I could teach you. I realize that know. My music is mine to give, cherie. I choose to give this gift to you, understand? Now do what I ask, and sing."

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Erik hadn't lied when he said his music was a gift. Lana studied voice since she was a child, yet he taught her more in that night than a lifetime of practice could have accomplished. That night, they sang Puccini, Haden, Bizet... sometimes by herself, other times joined by Erik. Their combined voices joined together, soaring to the heavens, filling them both with the ecstasy of music. He explored her repertoire, teaching her songs and secrets unknown by even the greatest masters.

That night, time stood still. There was nothing but themselves and the music, always the music. Erik mostly played the great piano. After her lesson was completed, Erik reached for his violin. If Lana had known anything about violins, she would have recognized the ancient Stradivarius, worth a small fortune in itself. But all Lana knew was beauty - the beauty of a master instrument played by a master musician. And Erik was so much more than just a master.

Everything took on magical properties that night. She sat awash in the glow of light, unable to take her eyes away from Erik. The way his hand danced up and down the neck of the violin, at times faster than her eyes could follow. The way the light picked up the flecks of gold in his amber eyes. Even the mask he wore held it's own mythical properties.

After a time, her eyes grew heavy. The pile of cushions she settled upon were much too comfortable to keep her awake. The fears and worries of the night faded away, leaving her nothing but peace. The violin soon faded to an end, but Lana didn't notice.

For the moment, Erik contented himself to watch the girl slumber. Her breast rose and fell in a long, steady rhythm. Seeing her dark raven hair spilling out around her pale face was too painful for him to look upon.

He could keep her here, safely tucked away in his underground kingdom. No one living remembered the existence of his underground lake, nor of the house which lay beyond it. Besides, if they came for her, he knew how to avoid being found. Erik protected his home well.

The girl seemed to like his presence well enough. When he called for her, she came without hesitation. And when they sang together tonight, he had never felt closer to any human being in his life. It was almost like... _No,_ he chided himself, _I will not think of her tonight._

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Erik kneeled down beside her careful to make no noise. He reached out with a trembling hand, wanting so desperately to touch the soft skin of her face. An image of the young Parisian standing beside her, his hand caressing the skin which should have been his flashed in Erik's mind. He jerked his hand back as if it were burned by fire.

No, he would not be able to keep her. Fate had already begun it's cruel tricks, poisoning her heart against him. He had seen the way the she looked at the young man when he touched her the night Erik first tried to call her. Of course it was only natural for her to love him.

Erik stood, putting precious space between himself and his slumbering tormentor. He couldn't ease the pain in his aching heart, but he could at least try to keep himself away from it. Once, he was a glutton for punishment, forcing his pain loving way through life. Hoping against hope to touch true beauty. All his years spent banished in darkness had burned away that hope even if the desire remained. His suit with the girl was hopeless. It would be wise to rid himself of her as quickly as possible.

Lana stirred, moaning softly in his sleep. So innocent, so fragile, so lovely. The words he was about to speak died in his throat. Erik feared his heart would burst, praying that it would - perhaps only with death would the pain stop. But he knew. There would be no death for him just as there was no hope. Apparently, he had not completely lost his penchant for masochism after all.

Erik found his voice. "Girl," he spoke softly.

Lana's eyes flew open revealing a glimpse of her cornflower blue irises. "Did I fall asleep," she yawned sheepishly. "I'm sorry to have missed your playing. I guess I was more tired than I thought." She raised her arms above her head, stretching. Erik averted his eyes, unable to watch this graceful movement without staring.

"It's late, or early - depending on how you look upon it." He offered his hand. "Regardless, it's time I took you home. Come, petite."

A wave of disappointment threatened the smile forming at her lips. I guess she knew that she _would_ have to come home eventually... but already? She sighed softly, slipping her hand into his allowing him to lead her out. Once she stepped out of the warm glow of the house, Lana was blinded by the ever present wall of darkness held at bay by the army of lights. Erik didn't seem to have a problem adjusting. Once they were standing near the dock, his eyes began to glow a soft yellow.

"Why do they do that?" she questioned. Erik lifted her into the small boat, careful to make as little contact with her body as possible. He leaped in the bow, settling himself near the oars.

"Do what?" He muttered, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"Your eyes," Lana prodded. "Why do they glow like that?"

He glanced at her then looked quickly away. "You ask too many questions, petite. Questions that I have no answer for." He lapsed into a moody silence. The little boat glided on in the darkness, taking them farther and farther away from the little house.

Lana hugged her knees to her chest for warmth. She hadn't noticed earlier how damp it was in here. Of course she was concerned about a million other things at that point beside being a bit chilly. Hugging herself closer, she quietly waited for the boat to stop.

Once it hit the dock, Erik jumped back out again lifting her carefully up. The strength in his arms was amazing. He had lifted her up and down, rowed back and forth across the lake, yet he showed no sign of fatigue. For her own part, Lana was exhausted.

Taking her hand in his own, Erik led her down a smooth passageway. She could see nothing, but the floor was clear from any clutter. Before too long, she could hear Erik open a door then another. After walking through another long passageway, he paused. She felt him move around, searching for something in his pocket. A faint jingling sound was followed by the click of a lock being turned.

A heavy door made entirely of brick opened, bringing in a faint ray of early morning sun.

Erik was watching her. "This doorway leads to the Rue Scribe. Do you know how to get home from here?"

Lana nodded, her hand still clutching his. She didn't want to let go, but knew the time had almost come.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you for calling me tonight. I..." her voice faltered. She felt speechless and embarrassed, suddenly overcome with emotion.

His eyes gazed down at her, softening imperceptibly. It was his choice. He could end it here and now or he could condemn himself to endless torment. But that was a lie. The choice was already made. "Tomorrow morning be in your dressing room at 6:30."

"Why?"

Erik swallowed hard. "No one will be at the theater at that hour. You might never have noticed before, but your dressing room is special. It's set far away from all the others. I will meet you there every morning to give you your lesson."

"And here I thought they gave the only American the crappy dressing room." She tried to laugh, but could only sigh. "Erik, I can't accept this from you."

"You can and you will," his tone left no room for argument.

His hand still held hers. He pressed something cold and hard into her palm. "And you'll take this too."

She opened her hand. Inside she held a small brass key. "This is the key to unlock this door. You know the way now to reach the lake. You may come to me anytime you wish on one condition."

Lana blinked. "And that is?"

"Before you venture into the water, you _must_ call my name."

She laughed nervously. He was much to serious to be joking.

"This isn't a laughing matter, petite. I protect my lake most carefully. I would not want to harm you by mistake."

..._I could kill you if I chose, drown you in the lake perhaps, without a moment's consideration..._

Lana still felt no fear, but a cold chill shook her body nonetheless. "I think I'll remember that," she whispered.

"Do that." He was still watching her with his golden eyes, searching her for some secret something that only he knew. His hand moved slowly upwards, hovering over the skin of her cheek. Lana held her breath, hoping against hope that he would touch her. Erik was standing so close to her, she could feel the heat of his body, his radiating warmth. She begged for his caress with her eyes. "Good day, cherie," he whispered. His hand dropped back to his side.

Lana closed her eyes willing her heart to stop it's frantic beating. "Good day." She moved a step away before Erik reached out to stop her.

"Wait," he called, grabbing her hand.

She turned back around, yearning visible on her sweet face. "I never asked you your name," he said sheepishly.

She grinned. "You can call me Lana."

Unexpected relief washed over him. "Lana," he tried the name out in his mouth. It sounded terribly foreign. "I half expected you to have another name. You don't look like a Lana to me."

"Oh? Well how about Alana. Sound any better?"

"As long as it's not Christine, I'm fine." Erik bit his lip fiercly. What a stupid, foolish thing for him to say. His hand balled into a fist, nails digging painfully into the flesh of his palm. He was so preoccupied in his own private anger that he didn't notice how pale Lana had become.

"How did you know that?" she whispered. "I've never gone by that name in my life?"

Erik jerked his head up, staring at her in confusion. "What?"

"My first name," she explained. "My full name is Christine Alana Keeton. I've never gone by Christine my entire life. I even sign my legal name as Alana. So how did you know it?"

Erik shook his head, regaining control of his wildly spinning mind. "Just a lucky guess, I suppose. Set no store upon it." Reaching out, this time he did touch her. His fingers caressed the velvety soft skin of her cheek, finer than the softest cashmere in India. It felt just as he dreamed it would.

Lana said no more. When the bare skin of his fingers touched her cheek, her mind could think of nothing else. "Go home, mon cherie. Rest and sleep. Think on the things we practiced last night. And don't forget me in the morning."

He stepped away, closing the door behind him. Lana stood back. Once the door was closed, it blended almost perfectly with the brick wall. No one would even know there was a door there unless they knew where to look. If not for the tiny keyhole, it would be invisible entirely.

Her hand flew to her cheek. Tired, confused, exhausted beyond words, Lana walked down the Rue Scribe, heading towards home.

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A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying - thanks again to you lovely, lovely reviewers.

Don't give up on the story - more to come, I swear!


	8. Chapter 6 Decisions

A/N: Bluebeauty, Megumisakura, Opinionated Hussie, irhmj.... You guys are the best. I thank you for each and every review. _You_ are the reason I enjoy writing so much : )

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Chapter 6 - Decisions

The clock on her mantle proclaimed that it was 7:26 in large red letters. Even after a quick bath and a change of clothes, the morning still felt jarringly surreal. Nothing about last night seemed real to her anymore. Only the small brass key she clutched in her hand was substantial enough to prove that last night really happened. Erik existed.

Lana gave up on the idea of sleeping. She was much too excited to even consider making an attempt. Instead, she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. There were some things she had to find out, questions left unanswered. Bella was the only person Lana knew who could come close to answering. Even with her friend, however, she would have to keep last night's adventure a secret.

Reaching the street, she began the two mile trek to Bella's townhouse on the Rue St. Marie. Lana considered flagging down one of the brightly colored taxis, but she welcomed the walk. Maybe a little exercise in the fresh air would help clear her mind. It was a clear Saturday morning, still too early for most Parisians who had spent the night carousing. There were a few others here and there sharing the sun filled sidewalks with her.

Taking in a deep breath of air, Lana realized she felt better already. More in control. More like herself. Slowly, methodically she replayed the events of last night. When she remembered how Erik's hands encircled her waist, lifting her carefully to cradle her in his arms, Lana smiled, a flush growing in her cheeks.

She passed by the small cafe where met Bella for breakfast before practice during the week. Two elderly women sat together sipping tea, watching the pedestrians stroll by.

"Look Eloise," the lady whispered to her companion, slyly pointing at Lana when she passed by.

"Ah," the other lady sighed. "To be in love in Paris, Marie. If only we were young again."

Lana didn't notice their stares. Her mind was focused solely on Erik. She still couldn't understand why he fluctuated from tenderness to anger, one minute drawing her closer, the next shoving her away. The thing that bothered her the most, though, was how he somehow knew her first name. The mother she never knew had given her the name Christine because it was a family tradition. For generations, the first born daughter was given that name just as they were taught voice from an early age. Her father always said music was in the blood. Considering her family tree, he wasn't joking. Call it a need for originality, rebellion, a refusal to be bound by traditions - call it what you will, Lana refused to use the name. Even as a child, she insisted on using Alana - or Lana, if you will. When her mother found an early grave, her father was only too happy to use something other than his dead wife's name to call his daughter.

Could it possibly be coincidence that Erik said her name last night? Nothing concerning Erik seemed to be coincidence, Lana thought. She wasn't certain, but she intended to find out. Bella might just be the key to finding out.

Her legs began to ache, disgruntled at being forced to walk after spending a night exploring the theater's catacombs. She was relieve to see the high stone gate that led into Lana's town house. No one in the Deloitte powerful family had the faintest idea about poverty or even going without for that matter. Bella referred to the enormous house she shared with herself and three servants as her in town apartment. To the rest of the known world, this place was a palace.

Lana leapt up the front steps to ring the bell. The sound echoed with a hollow, resounding gong through the hallway. After only a few moments, the dour faced butler, an elderly servant named Remier, answered. He looked down his hawk beak nose at her, disdain clearly written on his wrinkled face. He moved to let her inside with obvious reluctance. She had been here several times before, so it's not like Remier didn't recognize her as Bella's friend. He simply didn't approve of his _mistress _mingling with such obvious commoners. "I believe my mistress is expecting you, I believe. Follow me, please."

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Oh is she, Lana thought in surprise. She almost said something, but thought better of it. Remier wouldnt' hesitate to toss her back out the door if he thought she didn't belong. She silently followed the elderly butler through the house. He led her into the back garden, Bella's favorite place to sunbathe. The garden terrace felt secluded, cut off completely from the outside world by it's high walls. As she suspected, Bella lay comfortably sprawled out on a low settee dressed in only a skimpy bathing suit. A slice of cucumber covered each eye. Renier slithered back inside, his duty - for the moment - completed.

As soon as Bella heard Lana's approaching footsteps, she yanked off the cukes. "I was hoping you'd get my message and come see me this morning," she said with a carefree smile. She stood up so she could stretch. Yanking on a fluffy white terry cloth robe, she rushed forward to wrap her arms around Lana in a warm embrace.

"Umm, message?" Lana asked.

Bella rolled her eyes. "You didn't get my message? Lana, what's the point of having an answering machine if you're never going to bother listening to your messages? I could have been dying in a hospital bed, and you would have never known."

"Of course not. Your butler hates me, so he would _never_ tell me which hospital to go to. Now are you going to tell me what the message was, or have you decided to punish me with suspense?"

Bella grinned, lighting her entire face with amusement. "I should punish you for that, but I'm too impatient to carry out the sentence. By the way, have you eaten?" She gestured towards a tempting buffet spread out on a nearby table laden with chilled fruits, dilled eggs, freshly baked pastries - enough food to feed a small army. The Deloitte family obviously spared no expense even when it came to breakfast. Lana tried to keep the idea of all that food going to waste from hurting her sensibilities.

"I ate before I came," Lana lied. She was much to out of sorts to try and eat and had no desire to let Bella mother her all morning. "Now are you going to talk to me or not."

Bella sat back down, gesturing for Lana to join her on one of the settees. Lana managed to keep from rolling her eyes in impatience and had to swallow back a sigh. She politely moved to sit across from Bella. Excitement was clearly written on the frenchie's face. It was easy to get swept up into her energy.

"After last night's little fiasco of ours, everyone at Mizerretti's was talking about you."

__

Fiasco...Lana wondered.For a minute, she thought that Bella somehow knew about her meeting with the Opera ghost. Then it hit her. With all her worry over Erik, she had completely forgotten about her embarrassing on-stage clash with Marguerite. Lana gave a little inward groan.

"Everyone I talked to just _knew_ you were going to get canned. I mean, Marguerite's such a stuck up bitch, she once asked for a stagehand's dismissal because he fetched her a cold bottle of water instead of a room temperature one." Bella spoke in a strange french-person-mocking-a-spaniard voice "Ze water ees too cold. 'ow can I drink zee water eef it freezes my precious vocal chords???"

Lana laughed appreciatively. "So everyone knew I was sunk then? I'm hoping we're speaking in the past tense, my dear?"

Bella nodded, her voice lowering theatrically. "I feared for a moment that all hope was lost. Then Louis stopped by."

Lana groaned. "This better not be another attempt at playing matchmaker, Bella."

Bella stiffened, the smile leaving her face. "I thought you might want to know whether or not you still have a job tonight, but I can see that I was wrong. It's obvious you would prefer finding out yourself tonight."

"I'm sorry, Bella," Lana tried to keep her quick temper in check. Her friend's theatrics seemed more than she could bear this morning. "I was only joking with you."

"I can't understand why you hate Louis so much, Lana. Especially considering everything he's done for you."

Lana sighed. Apparently her job was still secure, but now she wondered just how far in his debt she would be. "I don't hate him, I just don't know him. It takes time for me to warm up to some people." She thought of the way she had instantly trusted Erik, and again marveled. For her, trust almost never came easy.

"But you made friends just fine with me."

"Yes, but you're not a guy."

Bella nodded, point taken. "Well anyways - when Louis met me at La Mizeretti's, he told me everything. By the time he made it to the manager's office, Marguirette was already there. She was huffing and puffing about you, demanding that they dump you immediately. Louis walked right in and told them you were his personal friend. Robedoux and Chirac had already promised to give you the ax, but when they heard that they suddenly changed their minds. Marguerite was furious. You've made an enemy in that one, I'm sure of it. Not only did you thwart her will, she's been after Louis since she arrived in Paris."

"Why did he _do_ that?" Lana wondered aloud. She would owe him alright. The thought of being in his debt was uncomfortable.

"Oh Lana, we're not going to have _this_ conversation again are we? Anyways, the message that I left on your poor, unloved machine told you to get your butt over here, and that's all. I just wanted to get the chance to tell you all about Louis' heroics before he finds you."

"Before _who_ finds me?" Lana asked suspiciously.

"**_Louis, _**darling," Bella shrieked, rising up from the settee, arms outstretched. She walked past Lana, wrapping her newest guest up in a welcoming hug. "Lana and I were just talking about you."

Lana stood up, every muscle in her body tense. She turned to face him, a small polite smile on her lips. Louis was as devastatingly handsome in the morning as he was at night, she was shocked to see. His hair was still tied back, but renegade locks had escaped, falling around his face. He wore a slim black coat that reached mid calf. Underneath, his light blue dress shirt was left haphazardly unbuttoned at his neck revealing just a peek of his sculpted chest. Although the clothes were plain, she could tell by the way they were expertly cut that they must be expensive. Somewhere along the line she managed to aquire some rather wealthy friends.

"Mademoiselle Lana," he whispered. Her name sounded so exotic coming from his lips. "I had hoped to find you here. You're not an easy woman to find." He gazed at her with his smoky gray eyes. Lana couldn't tear her eyes away from his. A sick, panicky feeling fluttered in her chest. Why the hell did she have to find this guy so attractive?

"Oh bullshit, Louis." Bella fluently threw in her favorite cussword. "She's either at her flat, the theater, or with me. I don't think you are looking hard enough"

"Hush Bella," Louis said with a smile, his eyes never leaving Lana. "She's not a recluse, are you my dear?"

"I guess that's up to interpretation. Compared to Bella, I'm practically a hermit." That particular comment earned a cry of protest from the frenchie.

"I like hermits." Louis took a step towards her. "But how about we both prove Bella wrong. Come out of your little shell and go to dinner with me after tomorrow night's performance."

Lana's heart sank. It was a bizarre world she lived in when you get bent out of shape because a rich, powerful, sex god asks you to dinner. "I appreciate the offer, but..."

Louis took another step forward. "I'm not asking you to one of Bella's obnoxious parties. Simply a private dinner alone with me. There's this place nearby that plays live jazz - good food, great music. It's only a little supper, Lana. No strings attached."

"Really, I can't..."

He folded his hands into a steeple, bringing them to his lips. "Can't or won't? Give me one good reason for you to not join me tomorrow, and I'll leave you alone. Otherwise, say yes." He wasn't going to let her off the hook, and she knew it.

Lana bit her lip. She had a thousand good reasons why not to go with this guy tonight. Damn her clumsiness. If it wasn't for her own screw up she wouldn't have needed Louis to come to the rescue in the first place.

He was still looking at her, watching intently. "Is the idea of spending an evening with me so unpleasant for you, Lana?" he murmured.

In the corner, Bella held her breath, watching the exchange. They were standing close enough to touch if either wished to. She could feel the tension building, unsure of why her friend so adamantly refused his company. Could she be so conceited? _Ah well, _she decided, _the girl is an American after all. God only know what goes on in their heads._

"No, it isn't," Lana sighed softly. "It isn't unpleasant at all. I've been rude to you again, haven't I?"

"Just say yes and all is forgotten."

She looked into his eyes and saw those of another. Lana remembered the way the light had picked up the golden flecks in Erik's amber eyes. How it felt when he first touched her hand. To say yes felt like a betrayal, but how could she say no? The feeling of an actress without a script came back. All of her life, Lana had been a loner. She never needed much more than her father, a select few friends, and of course, her music. She had only known these strange men for a matter of days. It was scary how strong her emotions towards them had become.

Betrayal was crazy. How could she betray a man who pushed her so far away? He had never once shown her any interest in being something other than teacher. Besides, it was just dinner after all.

"Alright," she whispered without realizing she had spoken.

Louis' smile lit up his whole face making him even more handsome, if that was possible. The look of triumph in his eyes unmistakable. Only then did he look away from Lana. Turning, he took Bella's hands into her own, kissing her open palms. "Bella my lovely chit, I have to be off now."

"Oh Louis," Bella whined, "you only just arrived."

"Yes, but we children of the night have to sleep sometimes." He released her hands. Next to him, the diminutive ballerina looked like a small child. Louis turned again to face Lana. "I'll meet you at your dressing room tomorrow night. Be ready for me?"

It was too late to pull out now. She nodded in agreement. Without another word, Louis turned and left.

Bella moved to stand beside Lana, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Oh Lovely, for a moment there I thought you were going to tell him no."

"I did say no," she muttered.

"Yeah, but you didn't mean it, did you? Otherwise, you wouldn't have said yes."

Lana bit back the angry words that crept into her mouth. She was furious, yes - but not entirely at Bella. Getting backed into a corner was too hard for her temper to bear. She fought back, though. No matter how mad she was, Lana couldn't forget the real reason she came here today.

"Is your offer of breakfast still open?"

Bella nodded. "Gosh yes. I'm starving. I didn't think you had really eaten either. You said yes much to quickly for that." A sly grin crept across her angelic features.

"Liar liar pants on fire, right? Can I be forgiven enough to get a croissant?"

"Yes, but only one." Grinning, Bella handed her a plate.

The last thing Lana wanted to do was eat right now. She just didn't see any way around it. There were questions she wanted to ask. The only way to change the current mood right now was to add some diversion. From the tantalizing table of food, she selected a couple of generous, ripe strawberries and what looked like a blueberry muffin. Bella helped herself to the eggs. Once their plates were full, the girls sat back down at a small table nearby.

Lana loved Bella's sense of style. The chairs were iron wrought with intricate designs. At first glance, they looked as if they would be much more elegant than comfortable. Anyone sitting in them would disagree. The thick cushions padded comfortably, while the gentle curving iron cradled the back. Lana didn't want to think about what a little custom creation like this must cost.

While they ate, Bella chatted about the other girls in the corps d'ballet - gossip was Bella's number one favorite topic of conversation. Lana nodded her head, murmuring appreciatively now and then, but her mind was else where. As soon as she felt that it was safe to steer the conversation, she spoke.

"I had a dream last night. It was pretty strange. Remember the story you told me the other day about the ghost?"

"Lana, _please_ tell me you're not still obsessed with that."

"I'm not," she said honestly. Since there was no g host to be obsessed about, that was true. "I was actually dreaming about the girl - the opera singer who tricked the ghost."

"Hmm..." Bella murmured, her brow still knitted together in disapproval.

"It's kinda funny, but I've forgotten her name. What did you say her name was?"

"I didn't because I don't know. No one knows who the girl was, Lana. It's been over a hundred years, now."

"But you said she disappeared. Surely even back then there would have been some sort of investigation."

"Hmm," Bella sighed. For the moment, that look of irritation was replaced by honest curiosity. "Even if there was an investigation, they never made their finding public. No one knows who the girl was anymore."

"Surely it has to be somewhere."

Bella's eyes suddenly lit up. "I've got an idea. We could check the archives of _Societe_"

"Is that some kind of newspaper?"

"Well, not really," Bella looked almost embarrassed. "It's a gossip column."

"Bella," Lana groaned, disappointed. For a moment there, she thought she might be on to something. The last place she planned on looking was the french version of the National Enquirer.

"Look, she was an opera singer, right? An on again/off again prima donna. If she would have made headlines, it would show up in _Societe._ Plus, they've been in print for over one hundred and fifty years. They used to keep their old issues on microfiche, but they've recently gone high tech and put an archive up on the web."

Lana shook her head in disbelief. "We're talking about a gossip column here. Why one God's green earth would anyone care about what a gossip column had to say in the 1850's?"

Bella shrugged. "American's have their Wall Street Journal. In Paris, we have our gossip."

"Do you know how I can get my hands on a computer?"

"Of course. We can use one of mine. _After _breakfast of course."

XX

As ditzy as Bella could sometimes be, she was still fairly computer literate. Or perhaps she was just on good terms with the gossip column's website. Whatever the reason, it didn't take too long to find what they were looking for.

__

...Have Firmin and Andre tricked all of Paris in a new scheme for advertisement? This very night, in front of my very eyes, Christine Daae disappeared from the stage. She gave the performance of a lifetime - her very voice a triumph for musicians everywhere. Rumors are flying as to who actually caused the disappearance. Perhaps her lover, the Viscount de Chagny, has finally decided to elope, stealing her away from the eyes of his brother, the Count.

There was more, but Lana had already seen enough.

..._Christine Daae..._

"No wonder," she whispered to herself.

"What did you say," Bella asked good naturedly.

Lana shook her head, her face growing ashen. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

She stood, moving away from the computer. They were in Bella's library - a comfortable room full of book cases reaching from floor to ceiling. Comfortable leather furniture was arranged in front of the fireplace.

"Lana, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She tried to smile. "I'm just tired. It's been a long morning already."

"Would you like to lay down? I can call for Remier..."

"No, really Bella. I'm alright. I just need to head home and catch a nap."

Bella shrugged. "If you say so... Can I at least give you a lift?"

Lana smiled for real this time. "I think the walk will do me good." After a quick hug and a promise to meet for a late breakfast tomorrow, Lana headed for the street.

XX

A/N: Bad news, guys. I've had a death in my family, so the next chappie might be a few days. Please don't give up on the story : )

Does the review dance


	9. Chapter 7 How Not to Row

This chapter has been rewritten and reworked. In honor of the new movie - not to mention the many reviews asking for updates - I have revived this story and will write it to it's completion. Please r&r to let me know what you think.

XX

Erik paced the floor of his underground kingdom, restlessly awaiting dawn. Sleep had never been his friend. Tonight his dreams brought only tortured images from his haunted past, whispering promises of things that might have been and never would be.

__

She would be waiting for him in the morning no matter how hard his doubting mind tried to contradict. The thought of seeing her again, even from the other side of her dressing room wall, was what made him so restless. He was trying so hard to guard his shattered heart against her, knowing full well that his accursed ugliness would make her betray him in the end. No matter how she pleaded. No matter what her weak heart promised. It was hopeless. Fate would have her way in the end.

So he paced the floors of his opera. A prison where every pile of dust was like the steel bars - the moldering piles of forgotten trash were the walls. It was a prison of his own creation, yet it locked him in as tightly as a cage. Everywhere Erik looked, he saw nothing but death.

Suddenly, he could bear it no longer. _Air..._ his mind demanded. He must breathe fresh air, feel the clean wind on his face, or he would surely go mad. Looking around to get his bearings, Erik rushed towards freedom, climbing higher and higher. He had wandered far that night, bringing him close to the exits near the front stage. Racing towards the ladder that would lead up the trapdoor, he paused. The faint sound of singing floated down from above.

Silently, Erik stepped away from the ladder. Nearby there was a secret way to enter the stage through an unused storage room. He hurried there, slipping through the almost forgotten passage. Moving stealthily, he approached the solitary singer from behind.

It was _her_, just as he somehow knew it would be. She stood with her back to him, hair cascading down her back, tantalizingly soft. Her arms outstretched, beckoning to the heavens just as the words she sang beckoned.

"Holy angel, in Heaven blessed...

My spirit longs with thee to rest!"

All at once, Erik's eyes clouded over. It wasn't _her_ he was hearing... In his mind's eye, he saw the stage awash with light, the theater overcrowded with richly dressed patrons. The girl in front of him no longer wore the outlandish pants and shirts women now favored. The vision he saw was dressed in a floor length gown made entirely of soft white muslin. The song was the same. The voice was the same.

...But it wasn't. He blinked again, clearing away the strange thoughts that had overcome his mind. He himself had taught her that song last night. Why he chose it, he never knew. Seeing her there now, singing the same words that another had sung so many years ago. It was too much for his heart to bear. Despite his stealthy nature, he could not prevent the small, agonized groan that escaped his lips.

The child must have been listening for him, to have heard such an insignificant sound. Lana turned to face him, a small smile playing at her lips. Because of the mask he wore and the distance that separated them, she couldn't see the pain so clearly written in his eyes. It was obvious, though, from the way her entire face lit, that she was pleased to see him. Erik wondered bitterly how long it would take for that pleasure to turn to fear, disgust, or worst of all pity? How long until his presence made her cringe? How long until her damned curiosity made her look beneath the mask?

"Erik," she ventured cautiously.

She had turned to find him standing in the shadows, watching her unmoving. If it wasn't for his glowing eyes, she could have sworn he was just another statue. From what little experience she had with him, Lana knew him to be brooding. This was getting unnerving. She took a step forward.

"I was hoping to see you here tonight, Erik."

Finally, his paralysis broke. Erik moved towards her, keeping to the shadow. It was dangerous for her to be seen with him like this even so late at night. Whether she realized it or not, _he _at least did not want anyone else in this accursed opera house to know of his existence.

When he reached Lana, he placed a hand on her back, guiding her back into the protection of shadow. Unconsciously, Erik shielded her body with his own, protecting her from unseen eyes.

"I gave you the key did I not? Welcomed you to visit whenever you wished." Erik's silken voice did murder to Lana's senses. His broad hand remained on her back, a steady reminder that he was here with her. This was not some strange, fantastic dream.

She smiled sheepishly, looking a bit embarrassed. "You did, I know. But it doesn't do me any good. I can't row. I'd never even been on a boat before last night. I'm still terrified of climbing into that thing, let alone trying to row it. Besides," she paused, searching his eyes. In the dim light, they did not glow, but she could see their dark amber depths, "I knew you would come for me if I sang for you. That's what I was doing out here. Singing for you..."

Erik was taken aback. Could what she said not in some way be true? He had supposed that his restlessness was nothing but a troubled mind, but was anything ever truly chance? Fate's clutches were too strong to escape so easily. If the girl was drawn to his music, would it not make sense that he was drawn to hers?

"Then I am here now, as you wished. What is it you would have me do?" To her amusement, he dropped into an odd, courtly bow. Lana's smile widened. Looking up, his eyes met hers, unwavering.

Somehow, she instinctively knew that the sheet of ice that guarded his heart had lowered, however temporarily. If she said the wrong thing now, he would close his mind from her in an instant. All Lana knew was that she wanted to be near him. All thoughts of Bella, her father, Pierre where banished.

Like a lithe panther, he raised back up to his full height, his eyes never leaving hers. Taking a step towards him, Lana stood so close she had to tilt her head back to see him face to face. Measuring in at 5'6", she had never considered herself short before. Standing next to the impossibly tall Erik, suddenly made her feel so small.

"Lana," his voice was low and impossibly delightful. "What would you have me do? Did you desire another lesson?"

Lana's mind raced. Why the hell _did_ she summon him tonight? She wanted to ask him so many questions - about the curse, his past, and most dreadful of all a young opera girl named Christine. She couldn't just blurt something like that out, though. Lana could feel his eyes boring into her own, their intensity too much to bear. Finally, she could bear it no longer. Looking down, her eyes caught a gleam of light playing off of polished wood. Something was hooked at Erik's waist. _The violin!_

Lana blurted out, "Teach me to play the violin. My father played, not like you of course, but he played well. I used to beg him to teach me, but her never would. Papa always insisted I spend my time on voice instead."

Erik stood there silently gazing down at her. He lowered his head in silent consideration. He could tell that the violin was the last thing on her mind right now. What had she wanted to say so badly? The endless possibilities made him uncomfortable.

"Let's first teach you how to handle my boat. Violins can come later."

"Spoken like a true procrastinator," she grinned.

Erik didn't' return the smile. "I'm not putting you off, and I never forsake a vow. Come with me if you will, Christine, and know that tonight I will give you many lessons - violin being one of them if you so desire."

Her smile faltered. "Lana," she whispered through numb lips. "I prefer Lana."

What on earth had possessed him to call her by that name? Erik could see how uncomfortable it made her. Slowly, carefully, he cupped her chin with his hand, marveling at the soft skin. He could feel that she was holding her breath, not from fear he knew, but from anticipation. If he tried to kiss her now, as he so desperately wanted to do, she would give in to him. Would even welcome it, perhaps. If he wrapped her arms around her body, cradling her against him, her soft flesh would yield.

But...

If he gave in now. If he allowed himself this small indulgence. How much more would she hate him when she knew the truth behind the mask?

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it held no joy. The impenetrable wall had reformed between them. Lana was powerless to bring it down. Erik could see the disappointment in her eyes when he released her chin, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

__

You're so sad... Lana wondered.... _why won't you let me in?_

"You brood too much Erik." Lana reached out, taking his large hand into her own. "Way too much."

He swallowed hard, enjoying the feeling of her tiny hand held cradled in his own.

Hating himself for his weakness.

Hating her for the sweet torture.

"If we have so many lessons between us, shouldn't we get going?" Lana suggested.

He nodded, the smile fading from his lips. "You're not afraid?"

"You're with me, so I'm not. Now quit stalling and take me down."

Wrapping his jacket around them both as if it were a cape, Erik led them deep into the darkness below. Not even _he_ noticed the shadow that flitted behind, attempting to follow.

XX

Rowing was a complete disaster. Not only did Lana end up losing a paddle, the little adventure ended with Erik taking a swim.

Being able to see wasn't the problem - something Lana hoped would prevent her from learning in the first place. When Erik brought out an old fashioned lantern, she knew she was screwed. At first, the whole rowing thing wasn't too hard. Her arms got tired, but that wasn't so bad. What got her into trouble was he wandering mind. When they were halfway in between the shore and the dock, Lana found her eyes returning to Erik. In the dim light, she could see his face, the outline of his powerful body. Her skin tingled from his caress. Her lips burned, begging for his kiss. Perhaps with time he would learn to trust her. He would learn to let her behind his defenses. Apparently daydreaming and boats didn't mix. The next thing Lana knew, her left paddle slipped out of her hand. She jerked around just in time to see it floating off behind the gently gliding boat. Erik laughed softly in amusement, a sound that set her instantly at ease.

"That's not so bad, cherie. Lose the other one and we're sunk though." Moving carefully, her crawled to where she sat, taking the remaining oar from her. Erik skillfully guided the boat back, leaning over the edge to fish the paddle out. While he was bent over, Lana moved too quickly trying to see what he was doing. Her motion set the boat rocking violently. Despite his uncanny agility, Erik fell head first into the lake.

Her horrified cry was drowned out by the terrific crash of water. Lana was terrified he might drown, bogged down by his heavy clothes. Erik came up out of the water, laughing - a sound that took her breath away. His laughter was rich, fuller than anything she had ever heard. His laughter was sunshine in a world of darkness. Joy in a world of pain. It echoed through the cavern, filling every hollow place with light.

Lana leaned over the side of the boat, holding her hand out to him. She gasped when his hand closed around her wrist, yanking her into the cold water with him. Flailing, she tried to stop herself from falling over the side, but she was too off balance, helplessly plunging into the icy depths.

There was nothing to fear. Erik was there, splashing beside her, roaring laughter. Gone was the brooder. Gone was all caution. This was a man she had never seen before. She tread water, feeling awkward in her jeans and sneakers. Regardless of her discomfort, Lana couldn't help but giggle herself.

"Perhaps," he tried to speak, but couldn't. He was laughing too hard. "Perhaps, I should take over the rowing from now on."

Lana splashed water in his direction. "Very funny big guy, but how the heck do you plan on getting me back into the boat? And you might be a great swimmer, but it's too far away for me to make it to the shore with these clothes on."

Erik swam beside her. Carefully he positioned himself in front, placing her hands on his broad back. She could still feel a slight trembling in his shoulders from occasional stifled rumbles of laughter.

"Hold on to me and I'll swim for the both of us."

He was a strong swimmer. It seemed like only moments before the looming shore approached. As soon as his feet could touch the ground, he stood. Lana let go of his shoulders, but still had to tread water herself. Erik turned, guiding her around so that she could face him. He was no longer laughing, but a real, honest smile touched his solemn lips. The sight of that smile on his lips touched her heart. How long had it been since he had smiled that way?

Once again, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her easily. He walked with her to the shore, and didn't set her down again until he entered his small house. Like last night, the lights blazed, welcoming them home. They where both dripping wet, soaked to the bone. Little pools of water gathered underneath them on the wooden floor.

Erik moved through the room, disappearing through a door. When he came back, he carried with him a warm blanket and a knitted sweater which he handed to her.

"I'm sorry, I have no clothes for you to change into. I shouldn't have pulled you into the lake with me, Lana. Sometimes I find myself not considering all the possibilities that lie ahead."

She accepted the bundle, smiling up at him. Even from beneath the mask, she could detect a small blush rising in his skin. He refused to look at her, turning his head discreetly away.

The water was cold and had effected her body in interesting ways. Her clothes now hung to her form as tightly as if they where a second skin. It was scandalous enough to see her traipsing around in clothing he considered suitable for a man, but to see them cling so tightly. The mirth died on his lips. He had found her something to change into, something to bide until her own clothes dried out. She wouldn't have any small clothes to change into, though. The image of her wearing one of his sweaters and nothing else filled his mind. _Stop it,_ his mind ordered firmly. That way lay madness.

He turned away, his own clothes feeling oddly uncomfortable now. "I'll be in another room, changing into something dry. You'll have complete privacy in here, cherie. I'll call out before I come back."

Lana grinned, realizing the source of his discomfiture. "Thank you for the sweater," she murmured, watching his retreating back. The door shut firmly behind him. For a moment, she considered taking off her wet clothes and wrapping herself in only the blanket. What would he do if he saw her like that? It was obvious he desired her, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"What the hell am I thinking?" Lana muttered to herself. She was no two bit floozy. For cripes sakes, she had never even had a steady boyfriend. Who the hell was _she_ to consider playing the vile temptress.

Sighing, she quickly stripped off her clothing, yanking the sweater over her head. It was so long, it almost reached her knees. Still shivering, she wrapped herself in the blanket, waiting for him to return.

XX

A/N: Thanks for the reviews - hope you guys liked the chappie. If I'm not writing, I'm posting : )


	10. Chapter 8 Just a Little Dinner Date

Lana sat wrapped in the heavy sweater and blanket Erik had provided. While she waited for his return, Lana had placed her sopping wet clothing along a metal grating close to the small fireplace. The fire itself was small, but it still produced a lot of heat. As long as her clothes didn't burst into flames first, they should be dry in no time. Staring into the orange embers, Lana's lost herself in contemplation. In her mind's eye, she replayed everything she had learned of her mysterious companion. No matter how impossible it seemed, she firmly believed that Erik truly was in some way the Phantom of legend. There was simply too much evidence to prove him legitimate. There was the house under the Opera, the fact that he knew all the secret entrances and exits, not to mention his voice. His voice itself was legendary. She had lived with music all of her life and in all of her experiences, she had _never, never, _heard someone with a voice like his.

"Alright," she muttered softly to herself. "If he's really the so called 'Phantom' of legend, then how could he have lived for so many years?" Lana didn't believe in curses. She didn't really believe in ghosts either, but that didn't stop her from hunting down Erik. She would simply have to ask him, although she had a feeling that inquiries into his past would probably not be welcomed.

When Erik reemerged from his bedroom fully dressed and dried, his blond hair once again pulled back severely, Lana was still hopeful. When she caught a glimpse of his eyes, her heart sank. The strange moment of blissful intimacy she had experienced with him had evaporated behind the dark mask that hid not only his face, but his emotions. The wall which separated her mind from his was resurrected. All hope of learning anything more about him tonight was lost.

Without stopping to do much more than offer her a passing glance, Erik walked promptly to the piano. His fingers glided over the ivory keys, the music beckoning. Lana rose from the couch, hugging the blanket around her. Obeying the call of her new master, she obediently began to sing.

The night's lesson had begun.

XX

After what felt like an eternity, the last few notes of music hovered in the air before fading into silence. Erik rose from the piano, his eyes staring from underneath the dark mask. The hour was late, he could feel it. In the world above them, people would be rising for their morning duties, drinking their coffee, going about their mundane business in the same old way doing the same old things that man had done for centuries.

But below, in his underground world, the music was still alive. And with the music, his soul had found a moment's sweet peace.

...Lana....

She sung like an angel, her voice blending together with his own in perfectly united harmony. His rational mind knew that one day she would leave him alone again in the darkness. _But she was here now. _And for now, he would allow himself a few blessed moments of peace for when she was here with him, their voices blending as one, Erik felt whole again. Complete. He could even allow himself to hope. To dream. To pray that perhaps _this _time, Fate would not be so cruel a tormentor.

From where she stood, Lana blinked blearily. It had been too many hours since she had last slept, and exhaustion was having it's way with her. He was watching her again, she could feel it. Too tired to care about the consequences, she moved to where he still sat. Without a word, she sunk next to him onto the piano bench and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Are we done, Erik? I'm so tired," she murmured, eyes closed.

His heart lodged somewhere in his throat. Gently he shifted his arm to encircle her slender shoulders, letting her head rest on his breast. "Done so soon with me, ma petite? Have you given up so easily on violin lessons?"

Lana tilted her head upwards, a wry look in her eyes. Regardless of the mask, she could see that he was smiling down at her not only with his lips, but with his eyes. Her pulse began to quicken. He was holding her so closely now, she could smell the faint scent of him - an exotic mixture of spice and something inexorably masculine. No longer sleepy in the least, she struggled to keep her voice light and playful.

"Maybe if you didn't take your time with voice, we could have had time for what I want."

She felt his grip tighten.

"Cherie, do you not understand that it is _always _about what _you _want?"

His eyes were molten pools of amber, flecked with gold. She could feel his eyes burning her heart, searing her soul. Lana's chest was on fire. She had been unconsciously holding her breath. Exhaling slowly, she lifted one trembling hand, intending to touch his face. He intercepted her hand with his own, bringing it up to his lips. With infinite tenderness, her brought her fingers to his lips. With the lightest of touches, he kissed the tips one by one. His eyes never left hers.

"Who are you, Erik?" she whispered.

Fighting with every fiber of his being, Erik forced himself under control. What kind of monster was he to take advantage of such innocence? With a momentous effort, he gently pushed her away before moving to stand up. Ignoring the hurt look in Lana's eyes, he picked up his cloak and swung it over his shoulders.

"It's late - or early, mademoiselle, depending on how you look at it. I do believe it was time that I returned you to the surface. If you are ready?"

Holding out a hand, he tried not to see the confusion in Lana's eyes. Of course, the child could not understand why it was necessary for him to keep her at a distance. He knew all too well how she would thank him later for his discretion. Once she knew what lay under the mask, that is...

Obediently, Lana followed him to the awaiting boat. Sometime during the night, it had floated back to the shore. After a few moment of collecting the reticent oars, Erik helped her inside. The rest of the trip back to the surface flew by in a daze. Only when the secret door was opened washing them both in filtered sunlight did either one speak. Erik held the door open, gesturing for her to pass through. As she passed, he reached out to gently grasp her arm. Lana paused, head turned her eyes meeting his in silent inquiry.

"After the performance tonight," his voice sending chills down her spine, "you needn't wait for the cover of night to find me. I'll come to you."

His back was to the opened door. To Lana, he was a vision of palpable darkness, while she was surrounded in a pool of morning light. His words were so simple, yet the idea of Erik seeking her out was alluring in a way she still could not quite understand.

"How?"

His hand still encircled her arm. Carefully, he pulled her closer. "In your dressing room, there's a passageway long unused that only I remember. After you sing, wait for me there and I'll come for you."

Excitement surged through her only to be instantly crushed. Suddenly, Lana found it hard to meet his amber gaze. "That sounds great, Erik, believe me, it does but I can't tonight."

Erik's jaw clamped down. Only the force of his iron will kept his hand from clenching her arm. Already, the bitter taste of disappointment filled his mouth. "No?"

Lana stammered, trying to keep from sounding as guilty as she felt. "No, I - I mean that I can't come right away. I have to go to dinner with someone. It's no big deal, really, just an engagement that I got forced into accepting and now I can't wriggle out of. You understand, don't you?"

Somehow, he managed to keep his voice light and unconcerned. "I see. This engagement of yours must be important indeed to supercede violin lessons. Might I ask whom it is with?" The question itself was pointless. He already knew with whom she would be "engaged" with. He had known that Fate would take her from him sometime. It was only false hope that his time with her would be endless. Rage boiled deep inside his body, evaporating his disappointment in the heat of unrestrained jealousy.

"Just with one of the theater's patrons, Monsieur Louis Moncharmont d' Something or other. He interceded for me with the managers the other day, so when he asked me to go, I couldn't really say no." Her words felt false even in her own mouth. If he truly meant nothing, then why did she feel so damnably guilty?

Erik's thoughts must have run along the same vein, for his countenance had darkened even more. For an instant - just for an instant - he almost lost control. His first impulse was to grab the foolish girl and beat a hasty retreat back into the safety of darkness. Of course, that would only keep her with him for so long before she would find some way to escape him. He could forbid her to go tonight, bar her from seeing any other man but himself, threaten to end her lessons if she disobeyed. He had done so once before, had he not? It would gain him so time perhaps. A few more precious days or weeks before she began to see someone else on the sly, trying unsuccessfully to keep the affair from him. There were a few other factors of course. How aggressive was her new lover? How hard would the man try to steal her away? How much did she already love him? The thought was like a physical blow to his solar plexus. Erik fell to his knees, breath whisping in harsh gasps.

A startled cry escaped Lana's lips. Kneeling down beside him, she reached out for his arm. Erik drew away from her touch like it was a hot brand. "No," he hissed. "I'm alright damn you, I'm alright." Pushing himself backwards, he stood painfully bent at an awkward angle, still cradling his stomach. Lana stayed crouched on the ground, her eyes opened wide with concern.

"Erik, is there something I can..."

He shook his head. "No petite," his voice had softened to a gentle murmur. "You've done nothing wrong. Do not concern yourself with me, cherie."

Lana rose to her feet. "That's a lark. You nearly collapse at my feet, then tell me not to be concerned? When's the last time you've seen a doctor?"

A thin laugh escaped his lips. "With what ails me, mademoiselle, a doctor can not assist. My wounds run much to deep for any medicines, I assure you. All I need is rest, as do you. It will strain your voice too much if you spend your days with the world and the nights with me."

Lana took a step towards him, feeling completely and utterly miserable. "Erik, I..."

He stopped her words with an upraised hand. "Enough, cherie. You will go where you will this night, but for now I will bid you adieu." Without another word, he slipped back through the door. The lock made a small click as it turned.

For a few moments, Lana could do nothing but stand there, her head swimming. Slowly, she turned towards the street to begin the long walk home.

XX

"You're late," a voice commented dryly, startling Lana out of a exhaustion induced doze. Hours had passed since her last encounter with Erik. She now sat before an astonishing array of lipsticks, rouges, and whatnots in her dressing room, attempting to make herself ready for the night's performance. Lana's eyes rolled upwards towards the voice. Bella stood with her arms crossed, her face a storm cloud of offended dignity.

"I'm sorry, Bel, say that again." Lana shook her head, attempting to shake away the haze that seemed to surround her.

"Were you not even listening to me?" She was the perfect picture of French indignation. "I said you're late. And not only are you late for the final pre-casting call, you're late for lunch at our cafe, you didn't even bothered to call me, and now you've smeared lipstick all over your face."

Lana glanced at herself in the mirror. Sure enough, a line of bright red streaked across one cheek. It must have happened when she was dozing at her vanity. She sighed heavily, hands fumbling around on the desk for a tissue.

Bella was right. She was running behind today in the extreme. After she came home early that morning, Lana had collapsed into bed. As exhausted as she was, sleep never came. It wasn't until the sun was growing low in the sky had sleep taken over. But by then, it was too late. Before she knew it, the hour had grown so late that she literally had to run to the theater. Even then, it was necessary to sneak carefully to her dressing room without getting caught by Maestro Juneux. She was skating on thin enough ice as it was. The last thing she needed was to get caught coming in late for casting calls.

"I'm sorry Bella. I just haven't been sleeping well, and I..." Her clumsy hands knocked over one bottle after another in their frantic search.

Exhaling softly, Bella kneeled down next to her. Taking a kerchief from her own pocket, she began to gently dab at the smear on Lana's face. "Don't be upset _mon amour_, it is a small thing only, no? I only worry about you, Lana. You seem so tired, cherie, and I wish for you to look your best tonight with Louis."

Lana took the kerchief from Bella then turned back to her mirror. With firm resolve, she began to complete the garish makeup required for the stage. "I appreciate your concern Bella, but let me assure you I'm fine. I don't want you Mother Henning me."

Bella's little heart shaped mouth hardened into a thin line of red. "I'm not sure what that means, but I am sure that I don't like it. If you don't wish me to be here, then fine." She stood up to go, but Lana reached out to take her wrist.

"Bella, I..."

Bella gently extricated herself from Lana's grasp. "Don't worry about it. We'll talk later, alright?"

Lana could only nod. She didn't want to fight with her friend, but in her current state of exhaustion, she seemed unfit company for anyone. Struggling to keep back helpless tears, she turned back to the mirror, determination written on her pale cheeks.

XX

All during the performance, Erik hovered in a secret alcove in a dome high above the stage. From here hung the mighty chandelier that illuminated the auditorium in a magical glow of sparkling light. Once long ago, he had sabotaged the chandelier, forcing it to crash to the ground during a performance in order to punish a few reticent managers. Back in those days, the chandelier was hung by a system of chains and ropes. Now, a high tech system of pulleys and wiring held it together using a computerized system. Erik smiled secretly. No matter how high tech things became, there were always ways to make something fall. If someone wanted to badly enough, that is.

Once, Erik had wanted something badly enough to do whatever it took to get it. He was still nothing more than a liar, a manipulator... a murderer. Blood lust that he had thought long forgotten still surged through his veins. How he longed to kill that young wolf. To see his legs kick and jerk in their last macabre dance as he hung from the punjab lasso. If only murder would solve his problems. Lana would not thank him for killing her precious paramour just like Christine. Threatening her would only drive Lana further and further away from him. Fighting for her was out of the question. Fate would only do what it intended to do, regardless.

For the first time in his endless life, Erik felt completely helpless. Perhaps this time, he would try to do something he had never done before. This time, he would do absolutely nothing. Let Fate have her own way - he was tired of playing her little games.

From his hidden alcove, Erik listened to the rising song of the chorus. With his magnificent ears, he searched for one voice among the many. To the trained ear, it was not hard to pick out Lana's perfect soprano. Even after only a few sessions with him, her voice was beginning to metamorphasize into something beyond just a typical chorus girl. She belonged center stage, as did all of his progeny. This time, he would not help her become the prima dona. Perhaps her _jeune loup _could do the job for her.

As the opera began to wind down, Erik left his position and began to wander. It was easy for him to avoid the army of stagehands and actors that swirled behind the curtain. He had been doing such for centuries. Besides, only he knew the secret pathways and corridors long forgotten by all others but himself.

Without even realizing he was doing so, Erik found himself heading towards a certain dressing room. Against his better judgment, he stood hidden behind the great two way mirror that let him watch unobserved. His resolve tightened. He would not interfere, no matter what occurred. He _must_ not interfere.

The dressing room door opened. _He _stepped inside.

XX

Lana pushed her way through the crowded passageway that led to her dressing room dodging stagehands, ballerinas, chorus girls, and noisy admirers along the way. Tonight, the performance had gone off without a single error on her part. Of course, she had been ultra sensitive of her placement on stage, avoiding La Isabella at all costs. With the hard part finished, all she wanted to do was slip back into her little room, yank off her too tight corset and figure out a graceful way to get out of her blasted dinner date with Louis. On the plus side, she had seen no sign of the man. Usually, her occupied a viewing box close enough to the stage to make him visible from the theater. Tonight, his box was empty - nary a frenchie in sight. Perhaps he had forgotten all about the date himself. Oddly enough, the thought of being stood up didn't bother her a bit.

As she came closer to her door, the hallway began to thin out. Apparently there were a few fringe benefits to occupying the dressing room farthest away from everyone else. With a sigh of relief, she flung open the door and stepped inside.

Lana was immediately welcomed by a strong whiff of very expensive yet totally masculine cologne. Her heart sank pitifully in her chest. Lounging comfortably on her settee, one booted leg propped up on an armrest was Louis.

"Bonjour mademoiselle. What a marvelous performance. You should be very proud of yourself."

For a moment, Lana was speechless. The sheer audacity of this guy was suddenly beginning to grate on her nerves. "Louis, what are you doing here?"

He gestured grandly from the couch. "Waiting for you, of course." With slow grace, he rose like a cat from it's perch. An amused smile played at his lips. "I didn't want to take the chance that you would forget me."

Lana refused to feel guilty, but a dark red smudge began to grow along her cheeks and neck regardless. "I wasn't going to forget, Louis." I was just going to outright not go, she added mentally.

He was watching her carefully. For one panicked moment, Lana feared that he could read her mind. Without moving his eyes from hers, Louis walked towards her standing only inches away. It was unnerving having him stand so close. Again, the rich smell of his cologne filled her senses. It was a dark, heady smell much like its owner. Louis truly was looking handsome tonight. His dark hair practically gleamed. Left unbound it cascaded down his shoulders in a silken tide. He wore a black suit with a navy shirt underneath left partly unbuttoned. Did the man never wear ties, she wondered. He was standing so close to her now that her mind practically screamed for her to step back, but she could not. Her back was to the closed door; there was nowhere to go.

"I know you were not going to forget," his voice was low and silken. Not nearly as beautiful as Erik's, his voice held a power all its own. Moving slow, he placed his hand on her shoulders. "You're giving me that 'deer caught in the headlights' look again, ma cherie. I fear that if I let you go out of my sight, you will run from me."

Swallowing was suddenly not such an easy task. Speech seemed impossible. She could no longer stand to look into his eyes, so she concentrated her attention on the small hollow of his neck.

"Aha. I see that I was correct now. If I did not come for you now, you would have never come to find me, and I would be eating by myself tonight, no?" His voice was doing murder on her senses. His deep gravely voice and sensual accent had almost turned her legs, not to mention her resolve, into jelly. "Look at me, Lana." He commanded. When she did not, he tried again. "Look at me."

Slowly, Lana raised her eyes to meet his. With careful deliberation, Louis lowered his lips to her own. At the last second, she turned her head so that his kiss landed on her cheek instead.

Softer than any whisper, a ghostly moan echoed through the room. Louis would never have heard the sound, but Lana did.

"Shall we go?" Louis questioned. "I have reservations for ten o'clock. If we don't hurry..."

Lana managed a genuine smile. "Not quite yet. I have to change first." She gestured towards the gold lame costume she still wore.

Releasing her shoulders, Louis stepped back. "Wonderful. I'll pull my car around to the front entrance and pick you up in ten."

When the door closed behind him, Lana sighed in relief. Faster than she would have thought possible, she yanked the lacing out of her corset, and tugged the tight costume off. Without even a moment's deliberation, she threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater instead of the little black dress she had intended to wear this evening. Once she was dressed, Lana turned towards the back of her dressing room. Erik had said there was a hidden passageway in her room that led to the underground lake. Although she couldn't be sure, she thought that the sound she heard had come from behind. Her eyes searched the wall for a likely spot for a secret passageway. Immediately, they came to rest on the giant mirror that lined most of the wall. With a shrug, she walked towards it. As soon as she came close enough to examine it, a strange prickling sensation rippled down the back of her neck. A faint breeze was somehow coming through. It tickled her cheeks and made the small hairs at her temples wave. Lana shook her head in disbelief. A thin gap stood between the mirror itself and the frame. Sticking her fingers inside, she pulled. The mirror opened easily, sliding soundlessly on well oiled hinges. Beyond the light of her dressing room, there was nothing ahead but impenetrable black.

Moving with barely controlled excitement, she grabbed a flashlight out of her knapsack. Since her first adventure underground, she had made it her practice to carry one of these babies with extra batteries at al times. Flicking it on, she stepped into the passageway, making sure the mirror closed behind her. Without a single glance backwards, she headed into the darkness.

XX

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter...

J.


	11. Chapter 9 Omelettes and Wine

Slipping deeper into the darkness, Lana walked down the narrow passageway. Only the dim triangle of light from her flashlight illuminated the way. She felt no fear, regardless of the situation. Erik was down here, she knew it. The thought was comforting even in the midst of suffocating black. What had possessed her to follow him she did not know. What she did know was that she felt no regret for leaving Louis behind. Let the jerk cool his heels a bit. Why on earth had she even let him _try_ to kiss her. It wasn't like she had welcomed such attention. Still, there was no reason why she should have let him get away with it. As a matter of fact, the way she was feeling right now, she hoped she never had to face the man again. What bothered her the most was the thought of Erik seeing him do it. She was certain she had heard him through the walls. Just the idea of Erik misinterpreting that little scene made her cheeks burn.

Pushing all such thoughts out of her mind, she concentrated on finding her way. She would deal with Erik when the time came. The path was straightforward - no curves or turns loomed ahead. It was amazing to think of such a strange corridor leading from the mirror of her dressing room, and no one but Erik knowing about it. Well, no one but Erik and herself, that is. While she walked, she tried to remember what Bella had told her about the legend. From what she had already gathered from the old _Societe _column, the girl's name could have been Christine Daae. Besides, the name Christine fit with how Erik reacted when she first met him. Lana wasn't sure why, but the name was important - it was the clue.

Now, the legend mentioned something about how the phantom had fallen in love with the girl and had taught her to sing like an angel herself. Perhaps this passageway wasn't such a coincidence after all. Perhaps Erik had used it once long ago to reach another chorus girl like herself. One with a familiar name.

Lana's thoughts were abruptly interrupted when without warning, a hand shot out of the darkness. From behind, she was roughly grabbed around the middle with one arm while the other grasped her firmly around the neck. The flashlight clattered to the floor sending an arc of muted light as it spun. A little squeak of surprised indignation was the only sound Lana was able to make. For the first time, a thrill of fear shot through her. She tried to struggle, but it was impossible. The arms which held her bound were like steel.

"What are you doing down here," a voice hissed. "Tell me why you are following me."

She tried to speak, but could not. The arm around her neck loosened just enough to allow speech. "Tell _me _why you're choking me, Erik."

He released his grip only long enough to spin her around to face him. His hands held her shoulders in a vice grip, cutting deeply into her flesh. She could see nothing but his yellow eyes which blazed like a roaring fire. At the moment, he looked pretty damned furious and more than a little dangerous.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? A harmless, meaningless dinner appointment, I believe it was. You mustn't keep your precious lover waiting." Releasing his grasp, he pushed her away. He was taunting her. Goading her. Lana struggled to process what had just been said.

"Precious lover," she repeated slowly. Erik was beyond angry with her, that was the understatement of the year. He was furious and dare she suggest jealous? Lana thought quickly, her mind racing. If he was jealous, it could possibly mean that he felt at least _something _for her.

"Have you lost your damn mind, Erik?" She stepped towards him, closing the gap between them. "Trust me, I've watched Oprah enough times to know that a small amount of jealousy in a relationship is healthy, but this is really getting out of hand here."

_"Oprah_?!" He tried to step back, but Lana moved forward. Reaching out, she somehow found the fabric of his shirt. With both hands, she drew herself closer, standing chest to chest. His hands covered her own, trying to dislodge her. _ Damn her, must she always make everything so difficult_, he raged. "I'm tired of games, _cherie_, and I'm sick to death of faithless _femmes_."

Lana released his shirt and placed her hands on her hips. "You know, Erik, you've got a funny way of greeting people. There's no, 'Hi Lana, how are you doing tonight?' or even 'Say Lana, you're looking swell.' No! All I get is choked, manhandled, and accused of being some kind of shameless hussy because some guy gave me a peck on the cheek. It's France for God's sake. You people kiss each other all the time. Why am I getting the third degree for something so stupid? You know, the only guy who should be pissed off tonight is Louis. I don't even know _how _I'm going to smooth that over. But you know what? I don't care. You know why I don't care?"

"Enlighten me, _cherie_." Lana's eyes could not penetrate the darkness, so they were unable to pick up the slow smile that crept onto his lips. He wondered if she was aware of how ridiculous she looked when she was angry.

"I don't care because I'm right where I want to be tonight - with you. You told me earlier that I would go where I will tonight. Well guess what, you thick brained fool. I made my choice, and I'm exactly where I want to be whether you like it or not." She was breathing heavily, caught up in her sudden spat of temper. There was something about getting called faithless that didn't agree with her. Whatever she had managed to say, however, had worked. Even in the darkness, she could see his eyes soften, his fury lessen.

She was bound and determined to be the death of him, he swore it. Just when he seemed able to walk away from his fate, she had drawn him back in. He had done everything in his power to protect his fractured heart. Was fate so determined that she should break it? Regardless of what she had chosen now, he knew in his heart of hearts that this attitude was only temporary. If he had any sense at all, he would walk away from Lana right now. Watching her pale face in the darkness, seeing her standing before him a picture of righteous indignation - he could not resist. Despite himself, Erik felt his resolve melt, cooling the anger that had burned in his soul.

"I'm sorry if you felt that I 'manhandled' you. That was rather ungentlemanly of me, I agree."

"You can say that again."

"And I'm sorry that I referred to you as a faithless. You've done nothing but prove your devotion to your lowly tutor."

"Mmmhhmm. Keep talking."

"Now if you are through making me pay for my earlier bout of bad temper..."

"_I _am making _you _pay??"

"...Then we can carry on with the night's activities."

A sudden flash of flame startled Lana. In his hand, Erik held an old fashioned wooden torch. The light from the flame did a much better job of illuminating the corridor. Overhead, spider webs hung from the low roof. The walls seemed much closer together than they did in the darkness. All of a sudden, a sense of claustrophobia threatened to send her into a panic. When she turned and locked eyes with Erik, however, all sense of panic melted away. He had changed his mask tonight. This one was made of dark black silk and covered almost all of his face. Only his expressive eyes and lips were left exposed. Yet it was his attire that truly captured her attention. Erik was a vision from the past. Tonight, she could truly have believed him to be the ghost of a gentleman from the 1800's. He wore a white silken shirt that flowed around his arms and body in a series of billowy folds. Around his neck and wrists were hints of a simple lace. Instead of a coat, a black cape covered his broad shoulders. His blonde hair was held neatly in place by a piece of black ribbon.

"All you need is a top hat and cane," she murmured to herself. Erik heard and smiled. Taking one of her hands into his gloved one, he dropped into a courtly bow.

"I attended your performance tonight in secret, _cherie_. You sang beautifully. I was proud to call you my pupil."

Lana smiled wryly. "Thanks for the flattery, but I seriously doubt you were able to pick my voice out of the other twenty in the chorus."

Erik still held her hand in his. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed it with tenderness. "Believe me, Lana. Even if there were a thousand voices, I could still hear you."

For a moment, she could think of nothing to say. For one thing, she had never before heard her own name from his lips. When he said her name, it took on an odd musical, lilting quality that sounded strange and exotic. For another - she knew that what he said was true, every word of it.

Before she could think of something appropriate to say, he continued. "One last thing before we continue, my dear. I have a small point of contention with you. Earlier, you referred to the French as 'you people.' I will have you know, _cherie_, that I am most certainly not French."

Without another word, he drew her close. Hand in hand, they walked down the shadowed corridor.

XX

Much to Lana's surprise, Erik did not in fact lead them to the little house beyond the lake. Instead, she found herself standing before a doorway she did not recognize. From within an inner pocket, Erik drew out a long key. Once opened, the door swung inward. Peering out, Lana could see that it lead to a deserted alleyway much like the passage she took to return to the main street.

"Where are we going," she asked. His hand flew to her lips, silencing her. Raising one finger to his lips, he motioned her to silence.

His strange gazed captured her own. In the dim light, they had lost their unearthly glow, now burning a delicate shade of amber, the torchlight catching their golden flecks. He whispered so softly, that she had to strain to hear him.

"You shall see, _cherie_, when we arrive. For now, we must walk the streets. Stay close by my side."

Drawing her close to his side, her hand still in his, he arranged his heavy cloak so that it fell over her own shoulders as well as his own. They were now no more than a darker patch within the already pitch black night. Together, they moved as one. Erik guided their footsteps, keeping them in the deepest of shadows. He lead them through the narrow alley and onto the main street. Lana immediately recognized it as the Rue Seine, directly behind the theater. The hour had to be well past midnight. While the streets weren't deserted, there still weren't many people out this late at night. Erik had no trouble keeping them unobserved as he directed their path down the street. Overhead, the moon was swathed in shadow, offering almost no light. A thick fog had rolled off of the nearby river, aiding them in their silent passing.

Once they reached an intersection, Erik turned, then almost immediately turned again into an iron gateway. Before them stood a row of majestic old homes. With a casual air, he led Lana up a short stairway. Again, he withdrew a key from an inner pocket and opened the door. Guiding her inside, he closed and locked the door behind them.

Stepping inside the darkened foyer, Lana stared around in amazement. From behind her, Erik switched on a light. Above them, a crystal chandelier illuminated the hallway. Rich mahogany floors and a matching grand staircase dominated the room. What was most shocking however, wasn't the grandeur of the place - it was the emptiness. No furniture of any kind decorated the hallway. Two room opened up on either side. Stepping forward, Lana peered inside. Both of them were completely bare. Heavy satin curtains were the only stitch of humanity that she could see.

Eyebrows raised, she turned to face Erik only to find him watching her, arms crossed about his breast. "You want to tell me what's going on?" she asked amiably.

He smirked. "When's the last time you've eaten a meal, my dear?"

She laughed. "Are we talking Dad's pot roast kind of meal or McDonald's double cheeseburger?" He didn't respond, only stood there waiting. Sighing, she thought back. When _was _the last time she had eaten a meal. She shrugged.

"I thought as much," he murmured. "Come with me."

Taking her by the arm, he led her through the strange, empty house. She didn't ask any more questions. Lana had this funny feeling that Erik wasn't going to tell her anything until he was good and ready, anyways. After a few twists and turns, he led her into an enormous kitchen. It was immaculately clean. Floors glistened. Cabinets were neat and orderly. Most surprisingly of all, there was evidence of life in here. There was a basket of fruit on one counter. Dishes were stacked up neatly in one glass cabinet. A modern refrigerator and stove hung out side by side in one corner. Most surprising of all was a small kitchen table complete with two wooden chairs. Taking off his heavy cape with a flourish, Erik folded on the back of one. He gestured towards the other.

"Please, sit."

Feeling a bit numb, Lana slid bonelessly into a chair. If things weren't feeling a bit surreal before, they certainly were now. Erik, still dressed in the attire of an 18th century gentleman, was busily putting together the makings of an omelette. Out of the fridge, he grabbed a carton of eggs, cheese, spinach, and what looked like some kind of herb.

"You can cook?" Lana's voice sounded a bit squeaky even to her own ears.

He glanced up at her. "It's just eggs, not _foie gras._"

"Yeah, but you're talking to a girl who burned a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese."

Erik laughed softly. The sound did something funny inside of Lana's heart. "_Ma petite_, I always know you're alright when you start talking nonsense."

Lana smiled herself. She watched him for a few moments as he industriously cracked eggs and chopped spinach. Finally, curiosity won out. "So... You going to tell me what the Phantom of the Opera is doing in a mansion just down the road cooking me eggs?"

From behind the mask, he cocked one eyebrow. "They still call me that, eh? I had thought the phantom was nothing more than a ghost now."

She sighed dramatically. "Quit stalling and spill the beans."

One corner of Erik's lip quirked up. "How old do you think I am, Lana?"

She sat up straighter. "Now that's kind of a sensitive question, don't you think? I mean the whole age issue."

"Who's stalling now, _cherie_? Just answer me, how old?"

"Well according to my friend Bella, the legend says you're at least 200 years old.." _Wow. Spoken so matter of factly, it almost doesn't sound as preposterous as all that, _she marveled. _Oh wait - Yeah it does._

For a moment, Erik quit his chopping and simply stared. "And just what do you believe this two hundred year old creature to be. Am I some sort of fantastical monster to you? An angel or a demon perhaps?"

Squirming in her chair, distinctly uncomfortable underneath his gaze, she cleared her throat. "Well, I haven't precisely decided what I think you are yet. I was going for a more purist view of the legend and believed you were just cursed. Either that, or you're some kind of strange paranoid delusion or something."

"Let me assure you madame, I am no delusion." His gaze broke away, finally. Throwing a pat of butter into a pan, it immediately began to sizzle. The bowl full of beaten eggs followed.

"So..." Erik was certainly making this accursed difficult. Steeling herself, Lana tried again. "What are you then?"

"Nothing. Everything. Just a shadow of a man who once was, an empty shell." With an expert flick of the wrist, he flipped the eggs over in the pan. Lana found herself suddenly speechless. How could he be so damned casual about something so horrid?

"You're right about one thing," he added. His gaze still intent on the sizzling pan. "I have lived for well over two hundred years, and in that time I've learned a few things." With a deft motion, he divided the eggs onto two plates. Placing them on the table, he took a bottle of wine from the cabinet. "One: The little house under the theater is my true home and sanctuary. However, if a person is going to be able to manage one's fortune in above ground, there is a distinct necessity for an address other than the Paris Opera. Two: If the money is right, a lawyer is willing to put up with a rich man's eccentricities, no matter how bizarre they may seem. Three: How to make a damn good omelette."

With well practiced skill, he opened the bottle and poured out two goblets of dark red wine. Holding one out, he offered it to Lana who took it tentatively. She was staring at him now, her dark eyes wide.

"You needn't be afraid of me," he whispered. He should have known better than to say too much. "Forgive me if I've startled you."

"No," she reached impulsively across the table, taking his hand into her own. "You didn't startle me, and I would never be afraid of you. It's just that," she paused to meet his gaze. "It's just that my father would be so happy right now. It's not just anyone that can shock me stupid twice in one night."

She grinned then. Looking into her eyes, Erik could see the sincerity written so plainly. There was no fear. Relief flooded through him. "And were you such an exceedingly naughty, talkative child?"

Lana could feel the growing tension between them disappear. Releasing his hand, she leaned back in her chair. "Oh, I was a holy terror. My poor Papa was always so patient, though."

Erik raised his wineglass. "To your Papa, then."

Taking his lead, she picked up her own glass. "To Papa."

XX

After the meal, Lana helped Erik clean up the kitchen. Such a normal domestic task seemed so strangely out of place, that her sense unreality came back. Again, things seemed so surreal and unworldly. While they worked to tidy up, Lana processed what he had told her earlier. Soon, curiosity built back up. Despite her unease, she couldn't resist finding out more about her mysterious companion.

"Erik," she ventured cautiously. "I have a few questions."

Closing his eyes, he sighed softly. He was afraid she would be unable to leave well enough alone. "I will try to answer your questions, _ma petite_, but I cannot promise you anything."

"Fair enough. Tell me this. You alluded earlier to a great fortune. According to the legend, you lived with the gypsies before finding the opera. So how on earth did you get so stinking rich? This house must have cost a fortune."

He glanced at her wryly. "It did, but it was the only place close enough to the opera to suit my needs. As to my fortune, mademoiselle, I do not believe the story will play well in your opinion of me."

"Try me."

He sighed. "When I first met you, I told you that I was once an evil man - a murdererKnow now that I meant every word I said." He watched for her reaction. "Does that bother you?"

Lana swallowed, weighing her words carefully. "Well, what you actually said was that you were the ghost of a man who did those things. You don't seem so dangerous and evil now."

"Doesn't it?"

Lana laughed defiantly. "I told you earlier Erik. I'm not afraid of you. I never will be."

He watched her for a minute longer before continuing. "Well, I am horrified to say it, but you can add extortionist to my list of crimes. Long ago at the height of the opera's glory, I needed money to fund several little 'projects' of mine. I had already lived within the theater's walls for some time. Because of a few chance sightings and a few er... missing items or two, there was already a rumor of a ghost's existence. It was not hard to fool the current managers into funding my monthly salary. Over the years, I managed to amass a rather handsome little fortune. Enough to meet my meager needs over the years, that is."

Drying his hands with a towel, Erik inspected the kitchen. Everything was set back in place. Once again, the room was immaculately clean. Holding out a hand to Lana, he murmured. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?"

"Always so curious, aren't you?" Taking her hand, he lead her out of the kitchen and back into the empty foyer. "I purchased a rather fantastic Gershwin several years ago, but have never had the opportunity to put it to good use. Unless, of course, you feel that no longer need my services as a tutor, of course."

"Lead the way," said Lana, hope in her heart and a thousand questions buzzing in her mind.

XX

Dawn came all too soon. Once Erik's fingers touched the keys, there was no time for questions, only for singing. Again, peace filled his soul, healing his fractured heart. Only when they sang, their voices combined as one did he truly allow himself the indulgence of an all too scarce sensation - hope.

Before the sun could banish all light, Erik led Lana back to the secret doorway in the alley beside the theater. Traveling as they did earlier, she kept close to his side, Erik covering them both with his large black cloak. Although the street was completely deserted, a finger placed on over his lips commanded her silence. Into the darkened corridor they went, Erik leading the way as always. Once safely ensconced in her dressing room, only then did he allow any speech.

"You'll come to me tonight after the performance," Lana couldn't keep the pleading keen out of her voice. Tonight had been glorious, like some fantastic dream. Every moment she spent with Erik only made her want him even more. She longed to reach out and touch him, to feel his arms around her again as they were when he had led her through the streets, protected under the shelter of his cloak. Yet even now, she could sense him pulling away, mentally withdrawing as well as physically.

He still stood in the corridor, the secret mirror doorway held open. Masked in shadow, he was a vision of night, a sensuous temptation. Reaching out to caress her cheek with one gloved hand, he surprised her. Instead of pushing her away, he placed one hand around her waist and drew her close. Looking up into his eyes, standing now only a hairs breath apart, she found it hard to breathe. The hand that caressed her cheek moved to her forehead, stroking the wayward hairs of her temples from her eyes. His gloved hand rested on the small of her back. The skin there burned like fire from his touch.

When Erik spoke, his voice was like molten flame pouring over her skin. "I will come if you desire it, _cherie." _Slowly, his hand moved to caress the back of her neck. _Could he not see what he was doing to her_, Lana wondered. _Could he really not know?_ She felt like she was burning from the inside out. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back. Erik held it cradled in his hand.

The pale white skin of her neck lay exposed. It would be so easy now to lean down and kiss the tender flesh, to taste its sweetness with his tongue. Holding her yielding body so close to his own was sweet torture. How could her possible deny her offering, even if it costed them both their souls?

_I would give anything to take you, my sweet one - anything at all - But I will not sacrifice your soul for the redemption of my own...._

Instead of bringing his lips down to her neck, Erik brought her head up to rest on his chest. Lana could hear his heart beating wildly, hammering away a mad staccato. She could feel his desire, palpable as her own. She knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, so _why did he not take her?_ She lifted her eyes to his own, the question she desperately wanted to ask written there.

"Everything will be made clear to you, Lana, all too soon. You must trust me, _ma petite, _to make the right decisions, no?" Unable to stop himself, Erik stroked her hair, marveling at it's softness.

"No, it's not alright," she said in a whisper. Reaching up, she lifted a trembling hand to his lips. For once, he did not stop her from tracing their lines with her fingers. "But it doesn't look like you're giving me much of a choice, does it?"

Erik took her hand then, kissing the tips of her fingers gently. "I will come for you tonight, Lana. Be ready."

Carefully, he released her from his grasp and turned away. As the mirror swung back into place, he moved through the darkened hallway, leaving her to stand in a pool of iridescent light.

XX

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter - More to come, I swear it : )


	12. Chapter 10 Louis Updated

_**A/N: This chapter is a revised version. I added the last two sections of this recently. So, if you think you've already read this chapter, check it out again. **_

_**I had a bit more to add to this, and it wasn't enough to make it's own chapter, but it didn't fit with the next.**_

_**Sorry for the confusion, and thanks for reading!!**_

_**J.**_

And now...

Chapter 10

Lana reclined on the settee in her dressing room, exhaustion threatening to overtake her. Erik had left her only moments ago. Already, the loss of his presence made her feel oddly bereft and utterly alone. She knew she shouldn't fall asleep in the theater again. What she really needed to do was go home and crash in her own bed. Eyeing her settee longingly, it's comfy pillow and blanket calling her name, she forced herself out the door. Once moving again, it was easier to keep going. Her body ached, muscles throbbing. She had never been one who needed much sleep, but this was getting ridiculous. She felt like a candle burning at both ends. She would either have to give up her nights with Erik or say goodbye to normal, day walking society. Smiling to herself, she knew what the answer to that would be.

"I never liked people that much anyways and the good Lord knows I can't tan. Besides, I've always wanted to be a night crawler."

Lana headed towards the theater exit. Surprisingly enough, the morning sun had not yet completely risen. Checking her watch, she was surprised to see that it was not quite 5:30. The streets, while still fairly empty, were no longer deserted. Signs of life and morning ritual were visible in the doorways and windows of homes and café up and down the rue. The first rays of dawn were rising but night had not completely given up it's hold leaving long, dark shadows. Even if Lana had been wide awake, she still might not have noticed the figure that followed, flitting from shadow to shadow. She was entirely too caught up in her own private thoughts to have noticed even if she wasn't in a state of utter exhaustion.

For one thing, Lana had no idea how to approach Louis. She had a feeling he was going to be upset about the whole thing, as he should be. It was fairly rotten of her to just disappear like that, but she had no other choice. Judging by how Erik reacted, if she hadn't come to find him when she did, he might have never given her another chance to explain. As it was, he almost didn't listen. She didn't want to hurt Louis, but if it came between the two men, frankly, Erik would win hands down. Sure he was a bit eccentric. Yes, he lived underneath the opera house in the middle of a lake. Yes, he was either a demon/angel/ghost/or some kind of cursed man - she still hadn't received a straight answer yet - but damn it all, she couldn't deny the fact that she was drawn to him. And whether Erik liked it or not, she _was _falling in love with him. Why he refused to see that, she couldn't understand. Maybe he was simply having a hard time coming to terms with his own feelings. If she had time later she would see if one of the local bookstores carried a french version of Dr. Laura. This was definitely a call for self-help therapy.

Lana looked wearily down the street. When her apartment building loomed overhead, she sighed with relief. Just a little bit further and she could finally get some friggin sleep. Stepping into the building, she fiddled in her pocket for keys while mounting the stairs. Luckily she lived on the second floor, not the third or fourth. Her poor legs just couldn't take it. Keys in hand, she began to unlock the door when a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn her head. What she saw made her gasp. An involuntary yelp of surprise escaped her lips.

Louis was there in the darkened hallway standing only a few feet away looking almost as rough as she felt. His hair had come undone. A shadow of beard covered his cheeks. Dark smudges of color sagged underneath his pale eyes. His clothes, which were normally in a state of perfect fashion, looked wrinkled and worn. But it was his expression that caused her the most alarm. Louis was beyond angry. His face was contorted in raw fury. Locking eyes with Lana, he rushed forward. Taking her by both arms, he pinned her against the wall. His fingers bit into her skin painfully.

"Have you lost your damn mind, Louis?" she cried out. Suddenly, Lana wasn't so tired anymore. Once again, adrenaline pulsed through her veins, bringing her to complete awareness. Inwardly she sighed. _Can't I make it through one 24 hour period without seriously pissing someone off??_

Louis was breathing heavily, his breath smelling faintly of cinnamon. A strand of his hair dangled down, ticking Lana's cheek. She struggled to free her arms, but Louis held her back.

Finally he spoke, his voice nothing but a low hiss. "Are you done toying with me mademoiselle? Have you had enough yet of your little game?"

He was glaring at her. Lana glared right back. "I have no idea what you're talking about Louis. Now will you please let me go?" She tried to move away again, but he slammed her right back into place.

"Is it to be more deception, _petite chienne_? And here I thought you were through humiliating me."

"The only one humiliating you right now Louis is yourself. _Me permettre d'aller s'il vous plaît_. In other words - Let me fucking GO!"

Finally, he did. Stepping back, he released her arms his glaring eyes never leaving her face. When he spoke, his voice was no longer angry, simply weary. Suddenly he no longer looked like a fashionable playboy, only tired.

"Just tell me where you were last night. I waited for you at the car for you, you did not come. I went to your dressing room, it was empty. If you didn't wish to come with me, why did you let me believe that you did?"

"Louis, I..."

He placed a hand over her lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Lana. You're thinking fast, trying to come up with your alibi."

Lana pulled his hand away. "I am _not _coming up with an alibi, and frankly I should be mad at you."

One perfectly shaped eyebrow shot up. "Mad at me?"

"_Furious _at you, as a matter of fact."

Folding his hands in front of his waist, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Explain mademoiselle, if you please. I beg, in fact. Please, _make _me believe that you have some viable explanation for leaving me to dangle on your hook last night."

Lana crossed her arms under her breasts. "Yes well, if you're ready now for an explanation, here it is."

"Oh, I'm all ears, _cherie_, trust me."

"Well, after you left me in my dressing room last night, I changed clothes like you requested. Then, I guess I simply misunderstood what you told me. I didn't realize you'd be waiting at your car. Instead, I was waiting for you in the lobby." _It's just a little lie,_ she reasoned, _and if it gets this wacko out of the way, I'll be a happy camper._ "I waited there forever until I finally just gave up."

"Ah," he said in mock amazement. "That explains so very much. Yes, I see now. And after I did not appear in the lobby, you went somewhere else? Because, let me be sure that I get this straight, if you _were _in the lobby waiting so patiently, then when I came back inside to look for you, we would have run into each other, no?"

"Well, we must have just missed each other then. After I waited, I went back to my dressing room and waited there quite awhile."

"Ah.... Again, my logic seems to fail me, my dear. You see I _went _to your dressing room - you were not there. I _passed _through the lobby - you were not there." By now, Louis was gritting his teeth. His anger, which had momentarily subsided, was visibly growing by the moment.

Lana felt herself cringe involuntarily. She had never truly been frightened before. She was now. "Isn't that strange?" she murmured innocently enough. "Look, I'm sure this is just a big misunderstanding. I didn't mean to miss you last night. Surely we can work this out, right?"

"Work this out?" His laugh was short and bitter. "Just tell me one thing, mademoiselle, and if at all possible for once be completely honest with me. Where were you last night, honestly?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to silence her. "And _don't _try to tell me that you went straight home and went to bed, because I will know for sure that you are a liar. After I missed you at the theater, I came here to find you. It seemed the most logical place that you would turn up. Low and behold it's six in the morning before you finally decide to arrive. So tell me in all honesty - _where were you_?"

Despite her iron will, Lana felt herself waver. It wasn't fear for herself that made her suddenly tremble. It was fear that she might have inadvertently caused Erik some small amount of harm. What if others found out about his existence? What if those others were people like Louis?

Lana forced herself to look Louis straight in the eye. "Nothing I can say to you now will ever make you believe what actually happened last night. In your mind, you've already imagined the scenario. You already have deemed me guilty of something I have not done. No, I did not meet you last night. No, it was not completely my fault. But did I intentionally leave you 'dangling on my hooks'? No, I did not."

Louis sneered. "Was he worth it, Lana?"

For a moment, her heart froze. "Who?"

"The man you decided was better in the sack than me." He had moved closer and was looming over her again. Lana was not in the mood to be intimidated a second time. Rolling her eyes, she turned her back on him. She slid her key in the lock and opened the door.

"You're full of shit, Louis. Go home and get some sleep. Trust me, you need it."

Before he could stop her, she slammed the door in his face then locked the door behind her. Furiously, he pounded the door once, twice with his fists. The flimsy door shook in it's frame. It was thin enough that he could easily break it if he chose. For a moment, Lana was terrified he might actually try it. Again, he pounded on the door, this time hitting so hard, the sound of wood splintering set her heart pounding in her chest. One more good hit would send it flying. As abruptly as it started, the pounding stopped. For what felt like hours, she waited for it to start again. Why give up now when he almost had it open? Despite her fear, Louis was not coming back.

Shakily, she stepped away. On impulse, she propped one of her two wooden kitchen chairs underneath the door knob. "It always works in the movies," she muttered. Hopefully if her friendly neighborhood psycho came back, it would this time at least.

Rubbing her arms, she went to her empty bed and sat down. "Erik," she whispered in silent supplication. Curling into a ball, she laid her head upon the pillow and waited for sleep.

XX

Unknown to Lana, Erik had followed her home almost every single night since the first time he had glimpsed her. An unconscious urge to see her safely to and fro had caused him to guard her footsteps even after he had vowed to stay away. Now that he had held her in his arms, that same urge wouldn't let him resist following even in the dangerous morning light. Staying in the shadows, he had dogged her steps until she reached the door to her apartment. Normally, he would have turned back at this point having seen her safely home. Today was different somehow.

When the vestibule door closed, he waited several minutes before creeping inside. The sun was rising higher by now. Pervading light stripped the streets of darkness, robbing him of his precious covering. He didn't care now. For some unknown reason, Erik desperately had to see her, had to know that she was safe. Even if the whole world should see him stripped and bare without even his mask to hide him, he must _know_ she was alright. Stepping slowly up the stairways, what he saw made his blood boil with fury.

It was the young wolf. Had she fled his embrace only to find herself entangled in another? For a moment, irrational anger made his hands itch for blood. He would kill them both. Let Fate be damned, he would kill them _both_. A pity he no longer carried the deadly Punjab lasso as once was his habit. His hands could do the trick just as easily. Glaring at them, hatred harbored for centuries welled up inside threatening to spill over.

Just as he began to move forward, something in Lana's face held him back. She wasn't looking at the man like he was her lover. Her face was pale except for two bright bursts of crimson high on her cheekbones. Her lips were set into a false smile, hard as concrete. There was no desire in her eyes, only cold fear. That thought was like a spray of cold water over his mind. Could he have been mistaken? Moving on silent feet, he slid up the stairway close enough to hear yet still out of sight.

"....No, I did not meet you last night. No, it was not completely my fault. But did I intentionally leave you 'dangling on my hooks'? No, I did not." Lana's voice was unmistakably angry. The wolf was looming over her, his hands balled up into fists. Erik unconsciously tensed, preparing his body to spring. Was the bastard trying to hurt her?

"Was he worth it, Lana?" The young wolf questioned.

"Who?"

"The man you decided was better in the sack than me."

"You're full of shit, Louis. Go home and get some sleep. Trust me, you need it."

He watched as she quickly unlocked her door and slipped inside. _Smart girl,_ he silently applauded. It's never a good idea to test the intentions of a jealous man, something he knew from personal experience. Erik was still furiously jealous himself, but no longer at Lana. _She had chosen him again,_ his heart exulted, _even if the pitiful boy doesn't understand why_.

Before he had time to ponder the situation, the rejected lover began to pound at the door. Erik could see even at this distance that the door would not hold for long. Without giving it a moment's consideration, he leapt up the stairway. Just as the younger man's fists were about to come back down for a fourth blow, Erik's arm locked around his neck from behind. Uncanny strength still thrived in his muscles. It would be so easy to simply twist the neck and break it. Bloodlust coursed through is veins. His body practically screeched for justice long denied, for the revenge of wrongs much older than this little wolf's years.

Just before the loss of oxygen and blood flow robbed the man of consciousness, Erik let him go. Louis sunk to his knees. Bending down, Erik grabbed him by the collar bringing him face to face.

"You will leave the girl alone, do you understand."

Louis made no response. Erik shook him violently. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "Yes damn you."

"You will not harm the girl again, or I swear to you..." There was no need to say anymore. The young wolf had fainted. Cursing silently, Erik lifted the man easily. Carrying him over one shoulder, he moved down the stairway into the vestibule. Peering outside through the narrow door window, the street appeared to be empty. Opening the door, he dropped the boy on the porch. Hopefully he would wake up in a less violent mood, Erik mused. Hopefully the boy wouldn't blame Lana for the awful headache he would probably wake up with.

Overhead, the morning sun burned brightly. Glancing down the street, he saw that there would be no protection from peering eyes. It would be impossible to make it back to the theater unseen. Erik weighed his options. It seemed that he had no real choice in the matter. Turning back, he moved once again inside the flat.

XX

No matter how much she wished for it, sleep did not come. Lana knew that only a few minutes had passed, yet it felt like an eternity. Maybe she would feel better if she got up and made sure Louis wasn't outside her door waiting to strike. She had had enough of people jumping out of nowhere to last a lifetime. Just as Lana reached the front door, the sound of gentle knocking made her jump. She had to swallow back a small yelp of surprise. The last thing she wanted to do was let Louis know she was still awake. Moving as silently as possible she backed away from the door. Again, someone gently knocked. This time a soft voice spoke.

"Lana, _mon salut,_ let me inside."

"Erik?" Her heart began to pound, but it wasn't fear that made it beat so uncontrollably. She rushed to the door and moved the chair. Nervousness made her fingers slip on the lock. She flung the door open, her eyes not believing what she saw.

It really was Erik. She was so surprised to see him, for a moment she could think of nothing to say. "What on earth are you doing here?" was the first thing that blurted out of her mouth.

One eyebrow arched wryly. "Weren't you the one criticizing me earlier about pleasant greetings? No 'Goodmorning Erik' or 'What a pleasant surprise.' Is that all the warmth your precious tutor receives?"

Lana wrapped her fingers in his shirt, pulling him towards the safety of her apartment. She probably would have had more luck tugging on a ton of bricks. He was just as unmoveable. "Get in here before someone sees you," she protested.

A curl of a smile graced his lips. "Non. I refuse to enter without being invited, _cherie_."

"You're invited, you're invited," she muttered, tugging him inside.

The invitation was apparently adequate enough. Erik had allowed himself to finally get pulled into her apartment. Lana shut the door firmly locking it behind them. While her back was still to him, Erik said softly, "There is nothing to fear, _cherie_. With all the noise you and the young gentleman were making earlier, I doubt my gentle knocking would be enough to wake them."

Lana stiffened, embarrassment making her cheeks flame. How much had he seen? Worse yet, how much did he hear? She never actually said anything wrong, but it would be easy for Erik to misinterpret her evasive remarks to Louis. Never in a million years would she have ever _dreamed_ that Erik would have overheard that conversation. What would he think of her? It wasn't her fault that Louis made a surprise visit this morning, but how would he ever believe that? The very fact that he _followed_ her just showed how little he must trust her after all.

Anger and frustration mixed with exhaustion can make a volatile combination. Lana practically shook with emotion. She whirled around to face him. "Was that why you're here? To follow me?" What she saw in his eyes diffused her mounting temper like water on a fire. There was no anger there, no accusation, only tender concern.

"Lana, you have nothing to explain. You did nothing wrong, I know it." Erik closed the gap between them, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. Looking down into her expressive eyes, he saw a vision of himself mirrored there. "_Ma petite_," his voice trembled slightly, " I have followed you safely home every night for as long as I can remember. I did this solely for your protection."

_You make yourself sound like such a saint, Erik. What a perfect gentleman you must think yourself,_ a voice deep inside taunted. _Have you so easily forgotten how close you came to wrapping your fingers around her pale little neck? _Shame filled his heart, threatening to overcome him.

Lana's eyes widened. "Protection? Did you do anything to Louis?"

The question itself was innocent, but to Erik it felt like the strongest of accusations. "And what if I did, Lana? What if I wrapped my fingers around his neck and strangled the life out of him? I am a murder after all, _cherie, _or have you so easily forgotten?"

Lana met his gaze steadily. He was angry again - damned near furious. What had she said that made him so angry? "You wouldn't have done that, Erik. I don't believe you."

"Don't believe me," he sneered. His fingers were still locked on her shoulders. They tightened, biting deep into her flesh. Her refusal to see the truth about him was becoming infuriating. Even more so because the truth was that he almost killed them both. "Can you not even now see that you are playing with fire, Lana?" Roughly, he pulled her forward, forcing her to stand chest to chest. A cry of pain escaped her lips. Immediately, Erik let her go. Without thought, he pulled down the neck of her blouse, exposing one shoulder. Angry red welts had already risen, with hints of a dark purple bruise beginning to blossom.

Was he really such a monster?

Erik let her go and moved towards the door. Was this what Fate had in mind? That he should finally win her love, yet tear her apart from limb to limb with madness?

"It wasn't you, Erik," Lana whispered. His anger had startled her, yet even now she was not frightened. "Louis, he..."

"I have to go," Erik murmured. "Now that you are safe, I shall return to the theater."

Lana lunged forward, grabbing his arm. "Don't be silly, you _can't_ leave now. It's broad daylight outside. Everyone will see you. There's no way to sneak back in the theater without getting caught."

"Nonsense, _cherie,"_ his hand reached for the knob. Lana darted forward, inserting her body between Erik and the door. For one startled moment, Erik realized that he was looking straight down at her.

"You're angry with me and I'm not sure why," Lana whispered. Her head bowed, she found that she could not look into his amber gaze. "Whatever I have done to make you so, please forgive me. I'll apologize for whatever you want, just please... please don't leave me angry." Exhaustion has an uncanny way of loosening the tongue sometimes. To her surprise, Lana found herself saying things she would never have dreamed herself capable of. Placing her hands on Erik's broad chest, she forced herself to meet his gaze. His heart raced frantically under her hand, she could feel it race. "Please," she murmured, "Please don't leave me at all. It's been so long since I've slept, Erik. I wish you could understand how exhausted I am right now. And I think that if.... If you stay with me today, I might be able to sleep."

"What is it that you want of me," he questioned softly, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

"I don't want to be alone..."

"You're never alone, _cherie_." Carefully, he caressed her cheek with his hand. Lana closed her eyes and leaned her head against his hand. Damn him for his weakness, he could deny her nothing. Without another word, Erik lifted her into his arms carrying her as easily as if she were nothing more than a child. Lana wrapped her arms around his neck, relief flooding through her.

Holding her cradled in his arms, Erik carried her to the little bed. Laying her down gently, he knelt beside her in order to wrap a soft down blanket over her shoulders. Casting aside all caution, Lana stretched her arms out, inviting him to lay beside her. Whatever semblance of resolve left in Erik shattered If only she knew the sweet torture she was putting him through. Some part within him still held to reason. Keeping on top of the covers, he took her into his arms. Laying on her side, she faced him. Her fingers twined in the soft cotton material of his shirt, a happy sigh escaping her lips. Warmth spread through her body, seeping deep into her tired muscles. Sinking blissfully into the protection of his embrace, Lana felt all worry and fear melt away. He was with her, he was _holding_ her. It wasn't all that she wanted from him, but it was enough for now. Breathing in his scent, she finally felt herself submit to sleep. After a few moments, her breaths deepened and slowed.

Softly, tenderly, Erik began to sing. It was a strange song, one that he had long thought forgotten. Once many lifetimes ago, his mother had sang it to him - one of the few things she had ever done that was truly motherly. Casting away all thoughts of the past, he whispered the bittersweet song into Lana's ear. While she slipped into the darkness of slumber, he stroked her hair away from her forehead. Although he didn't want to, Erik marveled at the feel of her body pressed against his own. Her tiny form fit neatly into his own, cradled tightly against him. While she slept, her lips had parted begging to be kissed. It was maddening to hold her so close, to feel her body against him. Overcome with desire, he forced himself to remember just how unworthy of her he truly was. He imagined her dead - killed by his own hands. The thought burned his mind, robbing him of all joy this moment had brought. He wanted nothing more than to run for his sanctuary, to throw himself into the mind numbing bliss of music, yet he would not. She needed him now, and so he would stay.

Stroking back her hair once last time, he whispered into her ear.

"You're never alone, _cherie_. Never..."

XX

Like arising from the depths of the ocean, Lana slowly awoke from slumber. Her first conscious action was to reach out across the bed, searching for the man who should have been there. Shivering from cold, she sat up. The action caused the thin blanket to slide from her shoulders. Cool night air blew in from the open window nearby, the breeze sending the white cotton curtain billowing. Groggy and disoriented, Lana rubbed at her eyes. The clock near her bed read 1801. That's 6:01 in the evening, she calculated out of habit. Had she really slept almost twelve hours?

Rising from the bed she searched her night stand for a note or a message from Erik explaining why he had left. Why hadn't he awoken her to let her know he was leaving. She wondered if he had made it back safely to the theater. Glancing out the window, she was relieved to see that the sun had almost completely set. It was darker outside than usual due to heavy rain clouds overhead. That would explain the sudden chill to the air. Fetching a sweater from the closet, she threw it over her shoulders before walking out of the bedroom.

Upon entering her cramped kitchen/living room combo, two glowing yellow eyes greeted her from amid the gloom. Lana sighed with relief. He hadn't left after all.

"Mind if I turn on the light?" she queried moving towards the switch. Even in the darkness, she could see the slight incline of his head, Erik's nonverbal excuse for a "yes you may." The overhead lights sputtered on, illuminating the small apartment in pale light. Erik sat silently at the table, his hands folded neatly, watching her every movement with his strange amber eyes. Before him sat one of her two teacups in its little matching saucer.

"You should have woken me up sooner," she murmured as she slipped into the chair across from him. "I didn't mean to sleep so late."

She paused, waiting for Erik to do or at least _say_ something, yet he did not. He sat in silence, watching her wordlessly. It was starting to become a bit unnerving, Lana noted. "Not very talkative in the mornings, are we? That's okay. I'll make enough conversation for us both, just nod your head at me every now and then to let me know you're still awake."

Finally, Erik spoke, his unearthly voice nothing more than a whisper. "I do not sleep, mademoiselle, so you have no need to worry about my not staying awake. Speak as much as you wish."

Lana's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, he talks after all." Still relieved to find him sitting there, she felt her mood lighten even more. Taking the other chair, she turned it around and sat down on it backwards. Grasping the back of the chair, she leaned forward. "So tell me Erik. You don't sleep but you still eat. What the heck kind of ghost does that make you?"

One eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly. His long, agile fingers toyed with the teacup. Lana couldn't help but follow their nimble movements. "I assumed that we had already established mademoiselle, that I am not in fact a ghost. Besides, I don't actually _need_ to eat, I merely choose to."

Lana rested her chin on her hands, staring at him open mouthed. "This is a little too much to try to take in before coffee." Standing up suddenly, she opened a cabinet searching for her little contraband stash of Folgers.

"I can't die, Lana." Erik's silken voice whispered from behind. Lana's hand gripped the cannister of coffee tightly. She stood motionless, waiting, no - _praying_ that he would keep talking. For once, her patience was rewarded. After a long pause that felt like an eternity, he spoke. "I've tried to die more times than I can remember it seems. So many long empty years of waiting, of being so alone." He laughed once, the sound nothing more than a harsh bark. There was no mirth in that sound, only pain long endured. "Once, I took it into my head to cease eating. For two years, I ate nothing, I drank nothing. In all that time, I lost not a single ounce. I felt hunger. I desired drink. But did my body suffer from such abuse?" Slowly Lana turned to face him, the small cannister clutched tightly to her breast. Their eyes met - hers full of sympathy, his full of pain. "I am cursed, _cherie._ Condemned to an endless death with no hope for salvation."

"No hope?" she murmured softly.

Erik swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her eyes. _Damn her eyes..._ Twin pools of endless cerulean depths. He could lose himself easily if he was not careful.

His mouth opened to respond to her, but a gentle knocking stopped him. Lana was startled so badly at the sound that she dropped the can of coffee. Kneeling down to scoop up the precious can, she whispered a curse under her breath. At least none of it spilled.

The knock sounded again.

_Louis sure picked a great time to come an apologize,_ Lana fumed in silence. She glanced at Erik. His hands were again folded neatly at the table, a crooked smile touching his lips.

"That, mademoiselle, should be for me, I believe. While you were sleeping, I noticed in dismay that your cupboard was most despicably bare. Why is it that the only thing you possess in your cupboard is a container of some undefinable sludge called," he paused to pronounce the foreign words, "_peanut butter_?" His lips curled in distaste.

"I'll have you know that there's a bottle of grape jelly and half a loaf of bread to go with that inventory," she retorted. "Now are you going to tell me who's at my door?"

"My grocer. I have necessities delivered when the need arises. I took it upon myself to improve your 'inventory.'" Lana started to protest, but he held up one hand. "Do be an obedient child and open the door, _s'il vous plaît_."

Not having much of a choice in the matter, Lana rolled her eyes then opened the door. A gawky teenager with a cardboard box of groceries stood outside, gum smacking between his lips.

"Mademoiselle Keeton?" he muttered, holding the box out for her to take.

"Thanks," she said in French, taking the box. The kid turned, already walking away. "Wait a minute, don't I owe you anything?"

"Naw, it's on a private account." Giving his gum one last smack, he headed for the stairway.

Shrugging her shoulders, she headed back inside, kicking the door shut behind her. She plopped the box down on the table with a heavy thud. Erik was still wearing that crooked smile, and looking rather pleased with himself. Lana glowered.

"I'll have you know that Peter Pan peanut butter is like mother's milk to me."

Without saying a word, Erik stood up and began to open the cardboard box. Boxes, canisters, and cans of every shape and variety were there as well as a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables.

"Wow," she muttered. "Too bad I have no idea how to cook anything more than Kraft Easy Mac."

Erik shook his head in mock dismay. "_Bon dieu, _do you really think I'd allow you to even try?" He sighed dramatically, one hand rising to his mask covered forehead. "You have no idea how to take care of yourself, _étudiant little student. _You do not eat, you do not sleep. How can you sing properly if your body is in such constant disarray?"

Lana couldn't help but laugh. "So what do you suggest, my all knowing _maître master_? Let me tell you now though, if you start referring to me as _grasshopper, _I'm out of here?"

He shook his head. "I have decided after much careful deliberation, that you are simply not capable of taking care of yourself without my constant supervision. I have graciously decided to take you on as my pupil in all matters. Let us not forget your precious musical training, either."

"No, well we couldn't have that, could we?" Lana smiled. Erik returned it.

For a moment, they did nothing more than look at each other. Finally, he broke the silence by holding out his hand. "Come, _cherie_."

Lana immediately took it. "Where are we going?"

Erik led her towards the counter. "Nowhere for now. We are going to learn to cook supper, for starters. After that who knows. We have all night, do we not?"

The thought was enough to send her into silent rapture. "I like the sound of that," she said with a smile.

XX

What would follow that night was a week of pure bliss. Lana had never thought herself so happy, so completely content with her world. Her nights belonged to Erik, her days belonged to the world. Every waking moment was immersed in music, either from the theater or from the angel of music himself. Every night, Erik would come for her in her dressing room. She would wait in anticipation for his gentle voice calling her name. Then she would rush to the mirror where he would be waiting with outstretched arms. As the days passed by, she could sense his defenses were dropping. The walls that separated his heart from her own were formidable, but not impossible. Every wall must fall in time, even those that guard the most precious of treasures. Each night, he would hold her in his arms, wrapping her in a tender embrace. Lana looked forward to this most of all. Not a single time, however, had he ever allowed her to kiss him, no matter how desperately she wished it. Still, every day that passed made her want him more. Some days she would watch the clock, counting away the minutes until he would come for her. One week became two, two weeks became three.

What was even better, she hadn't heard a single word from Louis since that awful morning confrontation. At first, Lana had been terrified that he would seek revenge. Since he was the one who helped her keep her position at the theater, she feared that he would now work to get her fired. After the first performance went by without a hint of trouble, she finally allowed herself to relax. No retribution came. The axe never fell.

Lana felt that her happiness was complete. Looking back, it never ceased to amaze her how quickly her world could crumble before her eyes.

A/N:

Remeber - I added those last two sections on, so if you think you've read this last time, look again : )

I'll have the next chapter up in a jiffy!


	13. Chapter 11 Opportunities and Risks

**_A/N:_** If you did not go back and read the updated version of Chapter 10, please do before reading this chapter. I added two small sections that did not fit with this chapter, but were not big enough to stand alone.

Thanks,

J.

XX

**Excerpt from the _Societe _Column **

_My oh my how time does fly when you're having fun, darlings. I don't know about you, my lovely readers, but these past few months have flown by at the speed of light. Can Aida really be nearing the end of it's run? My sources tell me that plans are already underway for the next spectacular production at the Opera Populaire, a well loved classic _La Boheme_. Our managers have decided to give good old Puccini a run for his money. _

_Now listen up readers, because I've stumbled across some rather juicy news. Rumor has it that the fantastic La Marguerite might actually be leaving if payment negotiations aren't made. Our beloved theater managers must now decide whether or not she's worth the money. If you ask me, monsieurs - my bet is in La Marguerite's favor. The Prima Donna is always worth the money._

_In other theater news, our beloved Louis d'Bienne has been acting rather strangely. Could it be that his little fling with the secret chorus girl has gone awry? Come on ladies, don't leave the poor gentleman out in the cold. Oh and Monsieur d'Bienne, my beloved - if none of those theater mesdames fit the bill, I know of one hot gossip columnist in particular who would be willing to fill your lady love's happy shoes...._

XX

The chorus members of the Opera Populaire assembled together in the massive choral room. It was almost time for tonight's performance, but the maestro had called an emergency meeting. The whisper of paper filled the room as the new score was passed around. Practices would be especially long and grueling from now on due to the transition from one opera to the next. Typically, the theater season runs from spring to summer with a small break before the fall and winter months began. That translates into two operas a year. The new managers felt, in their almighty wisdom, that since their singers and musicians were the best in the world, the expectations should then be at least doubled. In other words, the theater would therefore put on a new production every three months. La Marguerite claimed that she did not know of such outrageous expectations or she would never have signed one with the opera house. While the managers took on the colossal job of appeasing the Prima, the rest of the grunts began the arduous task of preparing for the tasks ahead.

_Aida_ would only be performed two more weeks. Frankly, Lana didn't care a whit what opera they were performing. She had other things on her mind. Besides, the drill was basically the same - hop around in costume, sing with everyone else, and when on stage, _stay out of La Marguerite's way!_

"Attention, monsieurs and mesdames," the maestro's shrill voice fought to be heard over the murmur of the crowd. "You hold in your hands the new score for _La Boheme._ It is my expectation that you will have your part prepared and memorized by Wednesday's rehearsal."

The woman seated next to Lana groaned. "It's Monday," she muttered to no one in particular. "How in the bloody hell are we going to know this in two days."

The maestro spoke on. "Thursday afternoon we will begin staging with final rehearsals starting at the beginning of next week. We have little time to prepare, _mes amis._ My expectation is that you will begin immediately. I will see you at tonight's performance. Dismissed."

Lana followed the grumbling crowd out the door. Personally, she wasn't in the least concerned with the upcoming change. Somehow Erik had found out about the news some time ago and had procured a score for her, incorporating the new music into her nightly lessons. She remembered his reaction when he first brought it to her. The thought made her grin. "I despise your manager's taste in music, _cherie._ Puccini was a weak man full of vice who knew his way around a brothel much better than his way around a orchestra. I detested him then, and I detest him now."

"You're such a snob," she had teased.

"Yes, but I know what I like..."

Lana's steps had slowed while she was lost in her reverie. The darkened corridors had emptied considerably, the next performance being only about an hour and a half away. Glancing up into the shadowed rafters where the heavy scrims and scene backdrops hung, she wondered what Erik was doing, where he was at. A quick blur of movement made her catch her breath. There in the shadowy platforms high overhead was the faintest hint of a human form, a patch of deeper black among the shadows. Noone else would have noticed he was even there. Lana was certain that the only reason she knew herself was that Erik wished her to see him. Looking up, a moment of silent communication passed between. Lana's smile widened. Apparently Erik was wondering what she was doing as well.

Hurrying down the hallway, she simply couldn't wait for this performance to be over. Her step quickened. Maybe if she was lucky, Erik would come to her beforehand. She was in such a hurry in fact, that she never noticed Bella's presence until they smacked directly into each other. Not missing a beat, Bella caught her friend around the shoulders.

"Lana, _mon ami, _you were just the person I was searching for." To say Bella was excited was the understatement of the century. Her pretty heart shaped faced was literally glowing with pleasure. It was obvious she was in the mood for conversation making Lana groan inwardly. The last thing she wanted to do right now was chitchat. Knowing Bella, it was nothing more than a new love conquest anyway.

Forcing a smile on her face, Lana gently removed herself from Bella's grasp. "Bella, it's great to see you, trust me, but I'm in a real hurry right now."

"It'll just take a second, Lana. I've got some really great news I wanted to tell you. You'll never believe it, but..."

Lana took a few steps away and made an apologetic gesture. "No, really - I've got to get going. Can we talk about it later?"

Bella's face fell. "If you really don't have time now, then sure. Whatever you wish." It was obvious by her tone that she had hurt the girl's feelings, but Lana had other concerns at the moment. Moving forward, she gave Bella a quick hug. Without waiting for a response, she hurried towards her dressing room.

XX

Celeste Aida, forma divina,  
Mistico serto di luce e fior,  
Del mio pensiero tu sei regina,  
Tu di mia vita sei lo splendor.  
Il tuo bel cielo vorrei ridarti,  
Le dolci breeze del patrio suol;  
Un regal serto sul crin posarti,  
Ergerti un trono vicino al sol, ah!

Mendoza, the Spanish baritone who paired up with La Marguerite on stage seemed particularly worshipful tonight. He bowed and scraped as he played the egyptian general Radames. When he fell in love with the beautiful Aida - beauty being a bit stretched in this case - he ardently kissed her little feet.

Apparently, La Marguerite had included Mendoza in her plot to squeeze more money from the managers next season.

In Lana's opinion, the rotund little man looked rather ridiculous bending down at the feet of the towering form of Aida. But, then again, who cares? The audience cheered and applauded even louder than usual tonight even if the chorus members had to hide their smiles. She wondered if Erik saw the performance tonight and couldn't wait to hear what he would have to say about it.

The thought made her smile again as she hurried to her dressing room. This time there were no distractions from the stage to her door. When she reached for the knob, her heart began to pound in her chest. A slender white envelope was taped to the door, her name written in tight cursive. Inside was a single sheet of paper.

_Mademoiselle Keeton,_

_After tonight's performance, please come immediately to my office. I have an important matter to discuss._

_Maestro Juneux_

Lana's mouth ran dry. She had almost forgotten Louis these past few weeks. Maybe _he_ hadn't forgotten her. Would he really have waited so long before getting her fired? Then again, maybe Louis had nothing to do with this after all. Maybe _she_ had done something to get herself in hot water. Fear made her stomach churn.

Her hand still rested on the knob. Should she go right away, or wait for Erik to arrive so that she could explain? Lana thought it through. Normally, Erik would wait at least half an hour or so after each performance to allow her time to change in privacy. He wouldn't know to come right away. Should she leave a note or something? Lana shook her head. Hopefully, she would be back - for good or for ill - before Erik arrived.

Note in hand, she headed towards the massive choir room where the maestro's office was located. The room was darkened, the only light coming from the cracked doorway leading to the office. Lana swallowed, gathering her courage. If she was going to be dismissed tonight, there was no sense in stalling the inevitable. She was saved from having to knock on the door for admittance. The maestro heard her approach and came out to meet her.

Maestro Juneux was a tall, thin man with a pinched face and severe dark eyes. He rarely smiled. A pained grimace being his usual expression. Lana had never spoken to the man personally, but she had seen enough of the man to take an instant dislike to him. During the early days of practice, there were almost constant arguments between himself and La Marguerite. "Power struggles" as the other chorus members liked to call them.

Juneux watched her approach, a clipboard clutched to his chest. Lana held out the note and said politely in French, "I received your message, monsieur."

He ignored the letter, looking down at his clipboard instead as if checking for notes. "You are Christine Keeton, no?"

She smiled nervously, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "I prefer Lana, if you don't mind."

Juneux sniffed. "Follow me, please." Turning on his heel, he turned and walked away. Lana followed, resigned to her fate. To her surprise, he did not go back into his office. Instead, he went to the piano set in one corner of the room and sat down. Bewildered, she stood beside him.

"You sang at tonight's practice and performance, so you will have no need to warm up, mademoiselle." It was a statement not a question, she noted. "If you will be so kind, let us see about your scales."

His fingers moved to the piano, gliding over the keys. Not knowing quite what else to do, Lana sang. Starting at middle C, they quickly moved higher up the octaves. Once she began to sing, Lana closed her eyes. Her mind reviewed every lesson she had ever learned from Erik. Instead of the dried old crab at the piano, she imagined it was him. She could almost hear his voice blending with her own. Before she knew it, the maestro paused.

"Do you think you can go on, mademoiselle?"

She had almost reached her highest notes, but knew Erik had crafted her voice to proceed. Nodding once, she allowed him to guide her into the highest reaches of her coloratura, her voice soaring into the heavens, clear as a spring water. When she could go no higher, she stopped. Emotionless, Juneux scribbled something down on the paper in his clipboard.

The music evaporated, taking Lana's courage with it. If he was going to fire her, he obviously would have already done it. So what the heck did the guy _want?_ The maestro sat deep in thought, his fingers steepled under his chin.

"Lana," he spoke after several moments of tense silence. "You, mademoiselle, are an oddity. When this theater held it's auditions, they chose singers that were the best - at the top of their game. I have here," he gestured to the papers in his clipboard, "your file. When you first came to this opera house, your top note was one note under high C. Are you aware of that fact."

"Yes monsieur." She had always been a soprano, but not an exceptional high ranged one. That fact had almost kept her from winning the audition. Apparently fate had it's own hand in things.

The maestro leaned forward, still seated on the low piano bench. His whole demeanor began to change. No longer did he look like a dried up old grouch. He actually began to look _excited._ "Do you also realize that not only have you exceeded your original top notes, but that you have added almost a complete _octave_ to your voice? That's unheard of."

Lana shrugged her shoulders. "Thank you monsieur."

Juneux stood and walked towards her. "Who is your tutor, mademoiselle? If he is not already famous, I'm sure that after hearing what a complete success you've become, I'm sure he will be."

"Well... he erm.... Only does voice lessons on the side. He's kind of an... _exclusive_ tutor, you see."

The maestro eyed her shrewdly. "I understand you completely, my dear." For a moment, Lana's stomach clenched. Had she said the wrong thing? "You want to keep the genius all to yourself, no?" He cackled. "Tricksy sort of girl, aren't you. Not that I don't blame you." He walked away from the piano, heading towards his office. "Come with me, my dear. You and I have much to talk about."

Still not feeling relaxed yet, Lana followed him inside. Juneux sat down at his desk, offering her a chair before he seated himself. Lana took it.

"How well do you know Puccini's opera, La Boheme," he questioned.

Recalling how Erik had insisted on teaching her the opera in it's entirety weeks earlier, she tried not to smile. "I'm fairly familiar with it."

The maestro nodded. "Good, good. Then you must know that there two principal female roles - Mimi and Musetta. It is already understood that La Marguerite will undertake the role of Mimi. It is the larger role of the two. The part of Musetta, however, is as of yet undecided. The managers, in their supreme wisdom, have left the casting of the role to me."

Lana's eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Juneux continued on, "Although you might not realize it, I have been listening to you sing for the past few months. You're voice has changed, improved to a level of excellence unmatched by anyone else at this opera house, and I do mean anyone. Hearing you perform the scales earlier, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was not mistaken." Here, he paused to take a deep breath. "I am prepared to offer the role to you, mademoiselle. Please understand, though, you do not accept it without taking on danger. You risk being seen as a challenger to La Marguerite - a position I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemy. Even though, I am offering you a promotion, what I am really giving you is an ever greater chance for dismissal. Although I control the chorus, it is the managers who control the theater." He sneered with contempt. "The Monsieurs know nothing of art, nothing of music. All they care for is profit." Juneux paused for a moment before returning his gaze to Lana. "I can't offer your security, mademoiselle, but I do promise you this. Sing like I believe you can, and you will have nothing to fear. I wouldn't have offered you this chance if I didn't believe you could succeed. So what do you say?"

Lana took in a deep breath then slowly exhaled. "It's the chance of a lifetime - to sing on the stage at the Opera Populaire in Paris. Not only to sing, but to be given a major role. Of course I'll take it, Monsieur. How can I thank you for giving me the chance?"

The old man smiled wryly before patting her shoulder. "Thank me _after_ you receive your first reviews, _cherie._" Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a different musical score than what was already passed out to the chorus. After a few moments of explaining the different practice schedule set for major parts - Lana was relieved to find that she would not have to join the general choir again - the maestro led her towards the door. He bid her good evening, and sent her on her way.

XX

The entire walk back to her dressing room, Lana felt like she was walking on air. Nothing seemed real, it was all just too fantastic to be true. Erik would be so delighted to hear the news.

Stepping inside her familiar dressing room, she was shocked to see that it was filled with flowers. Enormous arrangements were placed on every available surface filled with flowers of every shape and variety. The ranged from simple carnations to the more exotic orchids, hitting every flora and fauna in between. There were four different bouquets of roses - one red, one white, one yellow, and one pink. The effect left her dumbfounded. Could someone have already known about the promotion? Lana searched the arrangements for some kind of card, but she could see none. Feeling a overwhelmed, she sat down at her vanity. Pushing away an arrangement of lilies, she noticed a note lying nearby. She began to read -

_Lana,_

_I've never had to write anything like this before, so I'm not sure how to begin. I wanted to give you something - not as a way of begging your forgiveness. I know that there's no way to ever properly apologize for the way I reacted that morning. This is only my little way of showing how deeply I care for your opinion of me. I didn't know what type of flower would delight you the most, so I chose something of everything. _

_Let me assure you that I want nothing from you. I wish only that they could bring a smile to your beautiful face._

_You haunt my dreams, Lana. I cannot seem to tear you from my mind, no matter how hard I try. I have punished myself over and over again for how I treated you that morning. You were right, cherie. I was so angry that no matter what you would have said, I would never have believed you. How awful you must have felt to have been treated so vilely. I beg, no - I plead for your forgiveness, though I realize how undeserving I am. _

_Louis_

Lana sighed. "I think I preferred you when you were murderously psychotic, Louis," she muttered to herself before tearing the note in two.

Someone knocked at her door. Lana froze, the pieces of the note still in her hands. "Who is it?" she asked, her voice remaining calm and composed.

The door opened. Bella stepped inside, a wide grin on her face. "It's just me, Lana."

Lana was relieved and cringing all at the same time. "Oh, Bella it's you. What are you doing here?"

The little woman frowned. "Let me guess - _This_ isn't a good time for you either." Her eyes widened as if noticing the explosion of flowers for the first time. "Oh, Lana! They're beautiful - no wonder you have no time for your little friends anymore. You have a new lover, I see." She moved closer inside to examine an arrangement nearby. "Who is he?"

Lana bit back the harsh words that suddenly wanted to spill out. She sighed instead. "It's not a new lover, Bella. It's just a misunderstanding between me and Louis."

Bella's head jerked around. "Louis? He sent you all of these."

Lana was too caught up in her own frustration to notice the sudden change in her friend's tone. "Yeah. The jerk turns into Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, then sends flowers three weeks later to make up. I never liked the guy in the _first_ place. After his psycho routine, the less I see of him, the better."

When Lana caught Bella's eye in the mirror, her mouth clamped shut. Her friend's normally golden complexion had turned an awful shade of white. Fury had set the color high in her cheeks.

"How dare you speak of Louis like he was..." she sputtered, searching for the correct words in English. The challenge only seemed to infuriate her further. "Like he was some sort of _monster._"

Lana sighed softly, then turned to face her. Bella was practically shaking with rage. "He told me everything after you stood him up then slammed your door in his face. He let me know how heartless you were, how completely cruel. I didn't want to believe him because you were my friend, but now I see how you really are." She gestured towards the torn note still in Lana's hands. "Do you know that he does not eat - does not sleep since you treated him so unfairly? Did you even bother to realize how much he adored you? How much you have made him suffer? Why do you think I tried so hard to get you to go out with him in the first place?"

"Bella, you're not being fair about this."

Bella pointed a finger at Lana's chest. "No, it is _you_ who are being unfair. You have no time for anyone but yourself, Lana. Not even for me."

"Bella, you know that's not true."

The little woman sneered. "No? Did you know that I was promoted to the Prima Ballerina today? Of course not! You know why? Because you could not take two minutes out of your busy schedule to even listen to me. And now you _dare_ to contradict me."

"Bella," Lana struggled to keep her voice calm. "What happened between Louis and me has nothing to do with our friendship..."

"Friendship? _Friendship_?! There is no friendship between us, Lana. When's the last time you met me at our café? Can't remember, can you? Well I can - it was four weeks ago. You never even bothered to give me an excuse why you stopped coming. How about this - have you ever bothered to come once - just once - in all the months we've known each other to a single one of my parties?"

"Bella, you know I don't..."

"...you don't like parties. They're not 'your thing.'" she mimicked Lana's accent. Angry tears were welling up in her eyes. Bella made no effort to keep them from spilling down her cheeks.

Up until this time, she had borne Bella's angry tirade relatively well. Her comments about Louis had royally pissed her off, but she could at least bear them for a time. But, there was something about seeing the girl cry that softened Lana's heart. Perhaps it was because for once these were honest tears that poured down her cheeks. Lana stood, arms outstretched. Bella's tears were quickly becoming full blown sobs. Without waiting to be invited, Lana wrapped the smaller girl in her arms.

"I'm sorry Bella," she murmured, "so very sorry."

It was at this precise, inopportune moment that Louis walked in the doorway, another bundle of flowers in his hand. "Is this a bad time?"

At the sound of his voice, Bella tore herself from Lana's arms and flung herself into Louis'. "Of course it's not," she said between sniffles. "Lana and I were just patching things up, weren't we _cherie_? Come inside and make yourself comfortable. You don't mind, do you Lana?"

Lana could have strangled her - the conniving little french devil. She glared at Bella. "Not a bit," she growled.

Louis stepped carefully inside as if entering the cage of a wild animal. He held the bouquet out to her. "Mademoiselle," he murmured softly. Lana refused to meet his eyes, but took the flowers nonetheless. What else could she do?

"I wanted to apologize in person," his voice was soft and low. It didn't send shivers up her spine like Erik's, but it still had it's own effect.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Louis," Lana said in a no nonsense voice. "It just didn't work out, that's all." She sat down at her vanity again, putting her back to the two other occupants in the room.

"Don't be rude, Lana." Bella interjected. "That's exactly what I've been talking about."

"Bella," Louis chastised softly. "Let the mademoiselle speak her mind." He kneeled down beside her, resting one hand on the chair, one hand on the vanity. Lana's test began to tighten, not with fear precisely. His close proximity just had a way of making her feel caged in. Maybe she was just allergic to strange frenchmen.

"I have much to apologize for, _cherie_, whether you wish to admit that or not. I behaved like an ass, which you did not deserve." His eyes met hers in the mirror. "I do not ask for another chance, Lana. Only that you will forgive me."

Lana found that she could not take her eyes off of his reflection. The thought disturbed her. She was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. If only Erik would come bursting through the mirror right now and take her away from all of this. "You don't have to..."

He cut her off. "Lana, I need to hear it. Say you forgive me, I beg you."

"Fine," she muttered, finally wrenching her eyes away from his. "Sure, shoot. I forgive you, no problem. Mi casa es su casa. Que sarà sarà."

Louis watched her pick nervously at the flowers still in her hands for a minute longer before standing. He turned to Bella. "I've also been told that tonight congratulations are in order." He took her face in his hands and lightly kissed each cheek.

Bella's whole demeanor changed. She clapped her hands with joy. "I just found out myself only a little while ago. How do you know already?"

"I know because I pay to know," he smiled deviously. "Now let me be the first to invite you to your congratulations party. I intend on throwing our new Prima a celebration worthy of your new stature here at the theater."

Bella practically squealed with delight. "Seriously? Oh Louis, you're marvelous!" She threw her arms around his neck, threatening to cut off circulation. "When will it be?"

"This weekend," he sounded a bit choked, Lana noted. "Right after Saturday's performance."

Bella released her choke hold then turned to Lana. "Please say you'll come, _mon ami._ You have no idea how much it will mean to me." She dropped down on her knees beside Lana, wrapping her arms about the other girls' waist. "Please, Lana."

The words _not on your life _were what Lana intended to say, so she was just as shocked as everyone else to hear herself say, "Of course."

Bella lifted her head from Lana's lap, her eyes streaming with happy tears. "Oh Lana, it means more than you could ever know to have you stand beside me." She leapt to her feet. "I can't wait to tell everyone that the infamous Louis Moncharmont d'bienne is throwing me a party." Hurrying out the room, she left in an infinitely better mood than she had entered.

For a moment, Lana was glad to see her friend leave. She was still heavily annoyed with her. Realizing that Bella's absence left her alone with Louis, made her instantly regret wishing her away.

Strangely enough, Louis did nothing more than drop into a low, courtly bow. "I realize that it is much to early for me to expect your true forgiveness, mademoiselle. I will not keep you any longer than I absolutely must." Without another word, he was gone.

Lana sat in silence, the crumpled bouquet still in her lap.

"What on earth am I going to tell Erik," she muttered.

XX

A/N: I've had several people comment about the whole "Erik cookin dinner" thing. What I was trying to do there was make him more human. Phans are always ready to see their sexy manbeast do just about anything but be just a schmuck doing the daily grind.

Just trying to make it different ; )

As always, please R&R. This story is nearing it's end. I'm so excited about finishing it, you just don't understand!! I've got some new ideas about my next fic. I do believe I'm shooting for another Phanfic, if my reviewers ahem agree.

Oh yes - one last note...

As is my habit, I am going to let the reviewers vote on whether or not this can get kicked up to an R rating. I'm game either way. Majority rules.

J.


	14. Chapter 12 Conflict Resolved

Beloved Reader -

I have heard your cries for "More Erik" and have decided to accede to your request. Therefore, the majority of this chapter shall be from _His _POV.

J.

XX

The moment Erik first came to Lana's dressing room, he knew trouble lay ahead. The tiny cramped space was packed with flowers, true, yet that wasn't the first thing that he picked up on. It was the unexplained absence of Lana that made him so troubled. Opening the mirror door, he stepped inside. Moving to her vanity, he looked for a note or some form of explanation for her disappearance. A note from the esteemed Louis Moncharmont d'Bienne was the only thing he could find. Resisting the urge to use the thing as a handkerchief, Erik decided to read it instead.

When he was finished, he laid the note down on the table leaving it just as he had found it. For a moment, he simply stood there waiting for the murderous rage to wash over him, to rob him of all sense of conscious thought, to fill him with the need for revenge. He waited for his long, immaculate fingers to itch for blood, to beg for the feel of men dying under his hands.

Erik noted that along with the absence of even the slightest twinge of jealousy, he actual was considering the possibility that Lana's absence had nothing to do with Louis.

"How novel," he whispered. His voice sounded oddly detached, like it was coming from someone other than himself. For centuries, he had wallowed in this dark obsession, filled with longing for on thing alone. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he was changing. Lana had changed him somehow. The emotion that filled him now wasn't precisely hope. Perhaps, it was more accurately described as a lack of fear. He no longer feared for tomorrow. The desire to throw himself into the deepest oblivion had dissipated along with his fury. Lana could never truly love him, he realized that. If she ever discovered the monster behind the mask, she would leave him as surely as everyone before her had. That didn't matter now, he knew. All that mattered was her.

Seconds later, Erik was back in the rafters overlooking the stage. Behind the scenes, the backstage was in a state of chaos. Singers and dancers alike flitted from dressing room to dressing room in varying states of undress. Stage hands fought through the crowds, trying desperately to complete their tasks.

Hidden in the shadows overhead, Erik neither heard nor saw any of this. His inhuman ears strained to hear one voice among the throng. A sense of triumph rushed through him. It was _her._ Pushing his heavy cloak back so that it didn't interfere, he leaped from rope to rope, moving as easily as a spider in it's web. Erik slipped down into a secret passageway that led behind the walls of the chorus room. The closer he came, the clearer her voice. As the music soared ever higher, pride swelled in his chest. This was his legacy. If he could never win her love, at least he could give Lana her dreams.

After a few moments, the singing stopped. He could hear the whisper of their voices. When they stepped into the maestro's office, Erik moved with them. The passageway ended right behind the office wall. The thinness of the wood in there made for easy hearing. Erik had no trouble at all hearing the maestro's offer.

Excitement and pride again lifted his spirit. Without waiting for the conversation's conclusion, he hurried back to her dressing room to wait for her there. Standing behind the mirror, he watched her enter. Upon seeing the ostentatious presentation of flowers, her eyes narrowed suspiciously - something that made Erik grin. He wondered if she even realized how easily her expressions could be read from her face. The girl would never make a good card player, but at least she could not lie. Not that anyone could _ever_ actually lie to him in the first place. Erik had an uncanny knack for sensing the deceptive wiles of women. Again, in that respect, Lana was completely different. She had never deceived him, never lied to him. He wondered if she realized what a rarity she was among women.

Lana picked up the letter and read. Despite himself, Erik tensed. He didn't believe Lana was foolish enough to believe a single word the young wolf said, but Erik had learned long ago never to underestimate the stupidity of women. When she tore the note into pieces, he practically laughed with pleasure. _Enough of spying_, he thought as he reached for the mirror's latch. Just as he was pulling the mirror open, the dressing room door slammed open. Erik recognized the empty headed ballerina that barged into the room. Inwardly, he groaned. He had never been a patient man, but saw no choice but to wait for her to leave. From Lana's expression, she felt much the same as he. This at least gave some consolation.

Erik didn't bother to follow the conversation, so when Bella began to shout and cry hysterically it took him by surprise. Whatever tactics the girl was using apparently had worked. The anger melted from Lana's eyes, replaced now by sympathy. His lip curled in instant dislike. How dare the little chit attempt to manipulate Lana by lathering her in guilt. _Go on..._ a voice inside his mind derided mercilessly _...pretend that you haven't stooped so low. Try to forget that you yourself once begged at the knees of Christine, pleading for her love..._

Erik pushed these thoughts away, body tensing for battle. Into the room stepped the damned little wolf. From the back of his throat came a low growl. Like a caged lion, he paced back and forth behind the mirror, his eyes never leaving those of his adversary. There was something about the boy that drove Erik to distraction. A hint of malevolence hidden under the guise of a handsome demeanor. Not to mention the way Louis looked at Lana. There was something predatory, something intensely wrong with the way he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking. Again the low growl escaped his throat. Surely Lana could hear him. Unless she was too distracted by the young pup to listen, that is.

Despite his earlier emotions, his feelings of trust and certainty, Erik felt his temper begin to mount. He ground his teeth in frustration. He had lost the trail of the conversation going on in the room. Seeing the bastard kneeling down beside Lana had almost sent him into convulsions.

"She's mine...**_mine_**," he whispered fiercely, hands balling into fists.

Louis straightened up and moved away from Lana. It was obvious from her expression that she was relieved to see him leave as Erik was. The realization eased his mind just enough to let him listen again.

The twit was speaking to the boy now, babbling on about her new position in the _corps de ballet_. Erik rolled his eyes. _Will they never **leave**? _ He managed to swallow his impatience long enough to hear something that sent a chill down his spine. Both the wolf and the chit were conspiring together, using their joint influence to sway Lana. Erik hoped she would be smart enough to realize her danger. He prayed she would be strong enough to say no.

Much to the surprise of all and horror of some, Lana said yes.

Erik waited quietly for the room to empty, watching Lana as she sat holding the wilted bouquet of flowers. Finally, when the moment was right he slid the door open on silent hinges and stepped inside.

XX

"What on earth am I going to tell Erik," Lana muttered, feeling rather lost and forlorn at the moment.

"What are you going to tell Erik, indeed," said a voice from behind her. Lana's eyes flew open. She spun around in her chair, her eyes taking in the familiar dark form. Her first impression of Erik was his expression. His ambers eyes seemed even more brooding than usual, a dark haze concealing his emotions from her sight. His brows were furrowed in thought. The corner of his lips turned down at the corner, set into a decisive frown. She had hoped that somehow he wouldn't have overheard her conversation with Bella and Louis. Apparently that hope was as useless as trying to cover up a zit with foundation.

With a sigh, Lana allowed her glance to move away from Erik's glowering face. He was wearing his long coal colored cloak, darker than the deepest of shadows. Lana found his cloak particularly appealing. Whenever he wore it, she always remembered the night he sheltered her inside it, guiding her in the darkness. Underneath, he wore slightly more modern attire - a black cable knit sweater with matching trousers.

Lana stood. Crossing her arms underneath her breasts, she met his gaze evenly. She had learned in her short lifetime that bad news was like taking off a band aid. It was always easier to face the problem head on, ripping it all off at once, rather than let things linger.

"Well Erik, I have good news and I have bad news. But before I get to either, I insist on changing clothes." She gestured towards her gold lame costume. "I haven't had a chance yet, so if you don't mind..." Okay, so maybe she didn't _want_ to rip the band aid off right now. Did stalling make her a coward? Okay, well yes, but that isn't the issue.

Erik glowered from behind his mask, but Lana could see the barest hint of a smile glimmer in his eyes. She wondered how long _that_ would last. Still, the knowledge that he wasn't already killing, maiming, or fainting made her relax a bit. Erik turned sideways, facing one of the few walls that wasn't adorned with a mirror of some kind. Shucking off her clothes and tossing them into an untidy pile, Lana began to rummage through her bureau for something to wear. No jeans, no shirts.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath.

Erik turned his head slightly. "Pardon?"

"Nothing," Lana said sweetly. _Just that I'm standing in my dressing room in only my tighty whities while your back's to me... _Throwing open her tiny closet, she searched for something to wear. Aha, she found a dress hanging forlornly in one corner. "Hmm..." she muttered, "I forgot I even owned that."

Lana paused, dress in hand. A slow smile crept onto her lips. She wondered what Erik would do if she had him turn around right now. Would he stop her if she walked into his arms wearing nothing but her bra and panties? Would he finally place those lips on her skin, welcoming her into his dark embrace?

"Would you hurry up with this," Erik growled.

A soft sigh escaped Lana's lips. This was _not_ the time to press her luck. Erik was angry enough with her as it was. The last thing she needed to do was try his patience. Besides, if he rejected her, Lana didn't know if her heart could take it. Hurrying, Lana slipped the pale blue dress over her shoulders. It was simply made and cut with a modest scooped neck. The hem reached just below her knees. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she nodded her approval before calling to Erik.

"Alright, I'm decent."

Erik turned to face her, not expecting to see the vision that stood before him. He had never seen Lana in a dress before. Certainly, her costume for _Aida_ had been in the Egyptian style, but it didn't count as an actual dress. The light blue color highlighted her pale skin and long black curls. Lana couldn't help but notice the approval in his eyes. A slow, steady heat rose from the bottom of her toes to the roots of her hair. She felt a blush turn her pale cheeks crimson.

For a moment, Erik could say nothing. He quickly regained control. Keeping his voice free of the raging emotions he felt, he spoke. "I believe you had something to tell me?"

"Ah yes - the good news or the bad news?" Amazingly enough, Lana was able to keep her voice from trembling. It wasn't nerves that made her feel so shaky. To see Erik staring at her so openly, however, made her feel so... so...

"The bad news," he said. Apparently, he wasn't going to let her off the hook. Erik walked to her dressing room door and locked it then seated himself on the settee. He gestured for Lana to sit as well. Feeling like a child about to be chastised, she sat down next to him. The low seated couch was rather small, she noted. The shoulders brushed against each other as she sat. The momentary contact sent ripples of sensation through her skin. Turning to face him, she folded her legs neatly underneath her while Erik crossed his own. Lana caught herself staring at his long fingered hands which he had rested on one leg. She became acutely aware that he was watching her, patiently waiting for her to respond.

Lana took a deep breath then slowly let it out. She forced herself to meet his gaze. The artificial lighting in her room set the golden sparks in his amber eyes ablaze. Without even realizing her dilemma, Erik held her enthralled with his strange gaze. He merely thought that fear of him had made her incapable of speech. To think of her being afraid of him sent a tremor of pain through his heart. Slowly he extended one hand, covering her smaller one with his own. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"You needn't be afraid of me," he whispered.

"I'm not," she said without hesitation. "It's just that..." _I can't stop looking away from you... _"...that I'm not sure how to begin, you see."

Erik sighed. Even that small, insignificant sound was beautiful to hear. "I will make things easy for you - I do not want you to go, Lana."

"Erik, Bella is my friend..."

He shook his head. "I care nothing for the girl. It's the boy I do not trust."

Lana's cheeks burned even brighter. Shame was the catalyst that helped tear her eyes away from his. Hearing Erik refer to Louis was too embarrassing to bear. "This has nothing to do with Louis, Erik. Bella is my friend, and before I met you she was my _only_ friend. Did you know that when I first came to Paris, I didn't speak a word of French. Bella taught me everything about the theater. She helped me survive those first few weeks."

"Lana, I understand that the girl is close to your heart. That doesn't change the fact that the man is dangerous."

Erik's hand still covered her own. Lana took her other hand and grasped it with both of her own. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, to give his blessing. "It's just one little party. I won't stay that long, I promise. Just long enough to make a social call and snag some free food. I know you don't like the idea. Hell - **_I _**don't like the idea. But you see, Bella is my friend. I'd do anything to keep her from being hurt. If I don't support her now, what kind of friend does that make me?"

Her eyes searched his for understanding. Carefully he kept his expression guarded. Silently he weighed his options. 1. He could forbid her to go. This of course would only force her to choose between her friendship with the silly little chit and himself. He was confident that he would win the battle, but in the long run Lana would grow to resent him. 2. He could tie her down. Unfortunately, the end result of this would be much like the previous option. Although he would at least have the satisfaction of seeing her tied up... This thought led to others. Erik quickly pushed that particular train of thought away before things got out of hand. 3. He could allow her to make her own decision, then do his best to protect her.

Again, Erik sighed. What choice did he ever truly have? Once upon a time, he would have kept her from leaving his side in a heartbeat without even a moment's consideration. Was it this remarkable girl that had changed him so much, or merely the effects of years of rejection.

Lana held his hand tightly in her own. Erik encircled her narrow wrist with his fingers, drawing her hand closer to his body. "I ask only this Lana - that you promise to be careful."

Lana's smile lit her entire face. She practically was flushed with pleasure. "Of course," she stammered, not sure what else to say. _He **cares** about me... _she could see the evidence in his face plain as day. His hand was warm against her skin. Sensation arched through her arm into her body.

Erik met her eyes again, holding her with his steady gaze. "We will not speak of it again then, agreed?" Lana could only nod feebly. Moving with all the litheness of a feline, he lifted himself off of the settee. "Now for the good news," he said with a smile. "I do believe congratulations are in order, yes?"

Lana's eyes widened. "You know? But... How in the bloody hell did you find out? I only found out myself a few minutes ago."

Looking down at her surprised face, a crooked smile curved the corners of his lips. "I'm with you always, Lana. Even when you least expect it. I've guarded your steps since the moment I met you." He extended his hand to her. Without question, she took it. Erik helped her to stand. For some reason, Lana was suddenly feeling light headed. There was an intensity to Erik tonight that she had never sensed before. It left her breathless. "You've done something that none of my other proteges could achieve. Not only have you gained access to center stage, but you've paved the way yourself." Holding her arm, Erik guided her closer to him. His smile widened. "I wish to tell you something, Lana. I've tried over and over again to guide my precious students to fame. Never have I seen someone gain such recognition so easily."

He reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his hand. Lana closed her eyes, inclining her head toward his touch. Erik was careful never to touch her to often, afraid that to do so was only to invite disaster. Tonight, he was less cautious. The dress Lana wore made her look even more beautiful than ever. He simply couldn't resist the temptation of touching her.

"As I was saying, _cherie_, there are congratulations in order. Tonight I have a surprise for you." It was almost as if he had read her mind earlier. Just as she had hoped, Erik shifted his cloak so that it enveloped them both. His rich, intoxicating scent filled her nostrils, threatening to overwhelm her senses.

"Are we going to your house by the lake?" Lana managed to whisper between numb lips. Her head was swimming, but she didn't care. Erik had slipped one hand around her waist, holding her carefully against him. She allowed herself the supreme indulgence of resting her hands against his chest. She could feel the ripple of muscle whenever he moved his arm. There was strength in his body unmatched by any man she had ever seen. A thrill of excitement rushed through her body, making every neuron sizzle with anticipation.

"We're not going down," he stated simply. When she looked at him in confusion, again he smiled down at her. "Tonight, we're going up."

XX

That night would become forever in Lana's memory as the most magical, the most fantastic she would ever know. Erik took her on a journey through the maze of beams and rope ladders that soared above the stage. Well above the reach of common men, seated among the highest beams, together they perched. He showed her the secret places that only he knew. He took her to his favorite spot to watch the opera, the ledge by the chandelier high above the audience. When that was not enough, Erik led her higher and higher until they reached the rooftop.

Only when they sat together upon Apollo's Lyre did he allow their manic pace to slow. There, chaperoned by the mighty statue himself, Erik held Lana against his breast. Together they sat wrapped tightly together under the warmth of his cloak until the sun began it slow ascent. At some point in the night, Lana had fallen asleep, her head resting against him. Wrapping her body tenderly in his arms, Erik carried her back to her dressing room. Laying her on the settee, he covered her with a warm blanket. Kneeling beside her, Erik tucked the blanket around her slender shoulders. In her slumber, her pink lips had parted. For once, the temptation was too great to resist. Moving slow, as if in a dream himself, Erik pressed his trembling lips against her own. The kiss was light so as not to waken her, yet it was the most tender thing he had ever experienced in his entire accursed life. He wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and make her his. To lie her on his bed of satin. To cover her body with his own.

Strength of will was the only thing that saved the child from what he realized was a fate worse than death. Once she knew what lay behind his mask, she would never want to know of the kiss he had stolen. Brushing back the hair from her forehead one last time, Erik returned to his lair, his body burning with desire that he feared could never be slated.

As soon as Erik had left the room, Lana's eyes popped open. Her lips burned from his kiss. Her skin still tingling from his remembered touch. A slow, contented smile spread across her lips. _He loved her...._ he just had to learn how to admit it.

Lana was patient. She could wait...

XX

A/N: Hoped you guys liked it : ) Does the read and review dance

As for the eventual rating, thanks for the feedback!! We'll have to see what happens together, you and I...


	15. Chapter 13 Corsets and Pinafores

It was almost noon before Lana finally awoke from her deep sleep. Erik's intoxicating scent still lingered in her dressing room, a gentle reminder of his presence. At first, she didn't want to pull herself off of the settee. Pulling the blanket over her eyes, she tried to block out the noises coming from the hallway. A series of thuds and crashes let her know that the theater's illustrious stage hands were at work on some project or another. That meant for sure that today was Wednesday. There were never any performances midweek, so Monsieur Piangi - the Master stage hand - ordered most of the maintenance work for this day.

Feeling drowsy, Lana rubbed at her eyes. There were no practices today, no performances to worry about. Erik would be waiting for her tonight, but for now the day appeared to be hers. The thought was enough to drag her to her feet. It had been so long since she'd had a day to herself. The possibilities seemed endless.

Lana caught her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a quick once-over. Her dress was a bit on the wrinkled side after sleeping in it, but not to worse for wear. It was good enough to get home in at least. Lana's dark curls had been pulled back behind her head while she slept. Untying the black velvet ribbon that kept her hair bound, she plucked through it with a comb.

"Good as new," she said then nodded her satisfaction.

Taking her bag in hand, she headed out the door. Once she hit the street, Lana fumbled immediately for sunglasses. It had been several days since she'd had to face the noon day sun. Her eyes had already lost some of their ability to stand the obnoxious brightness of the day. Keeping her head low, she set to walking. Lana always enjoyed the walk back to her apartment. It was only a few blocks away - close enough for walking, but far enough to get a good stretch. Today was a great day for it. She had slept soundly for several hours, so the light exercise did her mind a world of good. When she reached her apartment, Lana skipped up the stairway to the second floor. No sooner had she opened her front door than the phone began to ring.

For a moment, her hand lingered over the receiver. She had given her number to only a few people - the theater, an old colleague in America, and of course Bella. Chances are it was the latter on the phone, but there was always the possibility that the call might actually be _important._ Not seeing much choice in the matter, she snatched up the receiver before the caller hung up.

"Lana, darling - you finally answered your phone." Bella's sugar sweet voice was even more cheerful than normal. Lana grimaced. Normally, she was rather fond of the frenchie. Here of late, however, she was finding it harder and harder to like her friend.

"Nice to hear from you too, Bella," Lana covered her lie by hiding it in sarcasm. By the background noises she overheard, she could tell that Bella was using a cell phone. "Where are you?"

"I'm in my car on my way to your flat. You don't mind, do you? I've got some great news to tell you."

Lana forced the smile into her voice even if it never made her lips. "Of course not. When will you be here?"

"Oh, I'll be there in five. Ciao!"

With a small metallic click, she was gone. Lana cursed under her breath. So much for her day to herself. Lana had just enough time to walk into her bedroom and open her closet. Three minutes later, Bella was knocking on the door.

From the minute the girl stepped into the room, she filled the entire apartment with nonstop energy. She complimented Lana's dress immediately, then began to chatter in her hyperactive, nonstop way. It didn't take long for Lana's irritation to slip away. It would have been impossible for anyone to remain untouched by the girl's unstoppable energy.

After a few minutes of inane chattering, Bella finally came to the point of her unexpected visit. "Have you heard the latest, Lana?"

Nursing a cup of coffee - she had fixed a pot while the frenchie chattered - Lana considered the question. "The latest what, Bella? The latest song by Madonna? The latest score of the NBA playoffs?"

Bella rolled her eyes dramatically. "Haven't you heard a word I've just said? I'm trying to tell you about the party this Saturday." She sniffed with her nose in the air like an offended cat. "You know sometimes I wonder how your mind works, Lana. The latest NBA scores, my _ass_."

The use of American foul language was still a source of never ending amusement.

Lana kept her tone appropriately chastised. "Alright, point taken. Sorry if my mind's a bit preoccupied. Tell me about your party."

"It's not _my _party Lana. It's Louis', remember? That means it's not just going to be a party - it'll be a full blown society _event!_" Excitement was partially oozing from her. The girl was so excited, Lana wondered if she would implode like some kind of superheated star. "Louis decided that instead of any normal society gathering, he would recreate a Victorian era Masquerade Ball. Everyone's coming in costume, you see. That means grand dresses, men in antique coats and top hats. It's going to be absolutely _fantastic!_"

Lana groaned. "This is sounding better by the moment, you know?"

The excitement drained from Bella's face. Lana immediately regretted her sarcasm. What was the point of going to this thing if she was just going to steal Bella's enjoyment at every turn.

"I know you're only doing this for me, Lana." Bella sounded utterly dejected, making Lana feel like she had just kicked a whimpering puppy. "Louis and I practically _forced_ you into agreeing to come. If it's really so awful for you, then you don't have to come."

"Bella," said Lana. "It's your big day. Of course I want to be there for you."

It took only a split second for the excitement to burst back into her eyes like nothing had ever happened. Lana groaned - she _knew_ she shouldn't have fallen for it. She was just a sucker for the hated "guilt trip."

"Excellent,"said conniving little frenchie. "Now that you're committed to going, you and I have a lot of work to do. Let's go." Bella tugged at Lana's arm, trying to get her out the door.

"Where in the blue blazes do you think we're going?"

Bella sighed dramatically. "It's a _costume_ party, Lana. We've got to go shopping. You can't just buy an 1850's dress at just _any_ dress shop. I know the perfect seamstress who makes the most fantastic creations - if the price is right of course. We've got to hurry though. If all of Paris' top society is going to this thing, we'll have to beat them to it." She grinned. "Oh come on, Lana. It'll be my treat. We have to get the hell out of here anyway before I get a ticket."

Lana allowed herself to get dragged out the front door. Not surprisingly, Bella's little red convertible was parked illegally out front. After a brief inspection of her front windshield for any suspicious little pieces of paper, she hopped into the front seat. Lana reluctantly followed, immediately latching on her seatbelt. She had ridden with Bella only once before. The experience had left much to be desired. Without checking to see if the road was clear, Bella pulled into the street, her foot slamming the gas. What would normally be a nice, leisurely drive to downtown Paris was converted into a hellbent for leather extravaganza of bad driving. By the time the car pulled to a stop in front of a nondescript building in the heart of the high end fashion district, Lana's knuckles had turned an alarming shade of white. She was clasping her hands so tightly in her lap, that her fingernails had left little half moon shapes on her palms.

"Well, we're here," Bella chirped. Stepping out of the car, she headed inside. Lana followed at a discreet distance. Stepping through the door was like stepping into another time. Mannequins so lifelike that they almost appeared to be real were positioned throughout the room each in a different pose. Some appeared to be dancing, others dipped low in courtly bows. What was so disorienting was the way they were dressed. Each wore an intricate costume that appeared to come directly from another time and place. There were medieval princesses and high bred society dames from the 1700's and 1800's. There were kings, courtiers, and even knights each dressed in costumes that spanned the ages. Walking closer to one of the women, Lana was shocked at the amazing detail in the dress. This was no ordinary costume - the dress was _real._

"_Isabella_," a voice from somewhere in the back of the store rang out with enthusiasm. "You are ten minutes late for your appointment, naughty girl." A tall, thin woman with a mass of shining copper hair pilled haphazardly at the top of her head appeared. Her bony fingers were clasped under her chin as if propping up her head.

"Madame Noeme," Bella cried happily. "This is my friend, Lana. I know I didn't make an appointment for both of us, but you know how impulsive I am. Will you have time for us both?"

The woman gestured with her hand as if shooing away an annoying fly. "For you, my dear, I will do anything - even the impossible. Now I believe you said that Monsieur d'Bienne was requested Victorian era?" She placed a hand on the back of both girls, herding them gently towards the back of the shop. Bella nodded in reply. "_Merveilleux, _but that is wonderful. I have the most perfect dresses available for both of you. It will only take a day or so to complete any alterations that need made."

Madame Noeme led the girls to a large display of dresses. Each of them were a perfect representation of what any proper young woman of means might wear 150 years ago. There were ball gowns, day flounces, tea dresses, walking dresses - anything Lana could imagine and much more.

Turning to face the girls, the Madame eyed them critically. "For Isabella, I believe I will adorn you in scarlet satin. Your skin is like honey, my child. It will do quite nicely, I should think." She pointed out an impressive evening gown cut low in the neck. Made in the deepest shade of red, the color could only be described as scarlet. The Madame was right, however. It would make Bella look even more beautiful than she already did.

Next, the seamstress' gaze turned to Lana. She considered in silence for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "Her skin is so white, it's like fine porcelain china. And those eyes, so lovely. Her hair so dark, so long." She nodded her head decisively. Taking Lana by the arm, she led her to a mannequin almost hidden in the corner behind all the others. "This, I believe, will be perfect for a _fille vierge _such as yourself. I shall adorn you, mademoiselle, in purest white." As soon as Lana saw the dress, her mouth dropped open. It was the most beautiful, most delicate thing she had ever seen. Made entirely of white silk, it was adorned with yard after yard of shimmering lace so fine that it almost looked like spun cobwebs.

Madame Noeme stood back, watching Lana's reaction. A look of intense satisfaction crossed the woman's face. "Would mademoiselle like to try it on?"

"Try it on? I'm almost afraid to _touch _it," Lana laughed nervously.

The seamstress shook her head. "It is delicate, yes, but you will not tear it. I made this piece myself, child. It is stronger than it looks. Now, before we can put on our lovely new dresses we must first fit you with camisoles, petticoats, hoops, and of course corsets. Ready mademoiselles?" With that, the woman turned and headed to another section of the store.

"_Corsets?!_" Lana cried. "Who said anything about a _corset?_"

Bella grabbed her arm. "Oh come on you big sissy. This is going to be fun!"

Although Lana doubted that statement to be true, despite her reticence she found the experience immensely enjoyable. It was nearly impossible to dress one's self alone. Madame Noeme was there to tighten corsets and lift the heavy dresses over the girls' heads. Bella was short in stature, so her ensemble needed several inches taken up. Lana, however, was pleased to see that not a single alteration would need to be made in her case. It was almost as if the dress was made specifically for her. When Lana finally stood before the great trifold mirror, she could hardly believe her eyes. The tight fitting corset cinched her already narrow waist even smaller. The heavy, full skirts billowed out in a wide circle all around. The neckline was much lower than Lana would normally have worn. Only the top of her breasts were visible, while the masterfully cut material suggested at the full, round curves underneath.

Madame Noeme smiled approvingly at her reflection. Even Bella stopped preening long enough to admire her. "You look like an angel, Lana," she sighed enviously.

Lana grinned at her scarlet counterpoint. "And you look like a knockout. Red is _definitely_ your color."

Before she was ready, it was time to get changed. The dress was so enchanting, she didn't want to take it off. She wondered what Erik would think if he saw her dressed like that... She was still wondering all the way to the car, and even half way home. For once, Bella was uncharacteristically silent.

"He loves you, you know." Bella's statement was so unexpected, that Lana responded without even realizing it.

"I can only hope so," she couldn't keep from sighing.

Her response made Bella smirk triumphantly. "I knew you would come around to Louis if I just gave it time. I've thought for awhile now that you were only playing hard to get."

"_Louis?!_ I thought you were talking about..." Lana's voice trailed off. _Take foot. Insert into mouth._

Bella practically slammed on her brakes to avoid a stopped car ahead. Lana grabbed onto her seatbelt and held on for dear life. "Who did you think I was talking about?" She said curiously. Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she finally understood what the implication meant. "You're in love with someone else. You _minx!"_

"I hardly see how my private life has anything to do with you." Lana crossed her arms under her breasts, defensively.

Apparently, Lana's words fell on deaf ears. Bella crowed happily. "I should have known it was another man. It must be _true _love for you to give up a catch like Louis. He's rich, he's powerful, he's got a body that's to die for, he's...." She stopped long enough to swerve into the other lane, narrowly missing another vehicle.

Lana took the opportunity to cut in while he friend was momentarily silenced. "Bella, if you don't stop talking about Louis, I'm going to jump out of this car right now."

Bella snorted. "Oh come on. You jump out of the car at this speed, and you'll be smashed like a bug."

"If you don't slow down, I'll be willing to take my chances." Lana's hand reached for the door handle threateningly.

Bella giggled, bringing the car to a stop. "Go ahead and jump, _mon ami_. We're at your apartment now, anyway."

Lana hopped out, resisting the urge to kiss the ground. The frenchie laughed hysterically. "Oh Lana, you always make everything so dramatic. You Americans are too funny." She shifted gears, revving her engine. "Look, if you don't want to talk about your Louis, we won't talk about Louis. But don't think you're off the hook yet. I expect to hear the details about your secret lover before this Saturday, and I mean it."

Lana raised her hand to wave goodbye, wincing when Bella nearly sideswiped a couple of unsuspecting pedestrians. She checked her watch. Could it really be almost five o'clock already? That didn't leave her much time for a nap, but she didn't mind too much. Erik would be waiting soon. Just thinking about his name made her lips tingle. Even her skin remembered the feel of his lips against her own. She only wished that the kiss would have been longer, more savored. She longed to feel his touch, to smell his scent. Whenever she thought about being wrapped up in his cloak, held safely in his arms, it made her shiver with anticipation.

The sun couldn't go down fast enough...

XX

A/N: Hope you liked the chapter - Please, as always, R&R. Believe me guys, this story is coming to a climax. We're not to the ending yet - I've got a lot left in store for you Erik lovers out there - but we are coming close to the end. Please stick with me for a bit longer ; )


	16. Chapter 14 Masquerade

A/N: One of my beloved reviewers left the decree that I publish the next chapter by Saturday. I hope that I have met the deadline : )

J.

XX

True to his word, Erik did not mention anything more about the upcoming weekend. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't worry. Lana could see the strain of his thoughts weighing down on his mind. Concern was in his every movement, every gesture. She wished that she knew exactly what it was that worried him so greatly. If only she could say the right thing or perhaps give just a gentle touch - anything to ease his mind. Since that night, though, when Erik dropped his guard long enough to kiss her as she slept (or so he thought), an impenetrable wall had been erected between them. At times, it was as if he was afraid to touch her, fearing that if he did the damn of his resolve would break. Lana did not understand, _could_ not understand how tightly the reins of control were strained within Erik. To have desired something for so very long and to have that precious thing right before your eyes... Oh yes, Erik was afraid. Lana had brought him peace in a world of darkness. He wanted her more than anything he had ever known, and had her... for a time that is. Because no matter what she felt now, Fate would never let him go.

Lana had hoped that in time, the barriers between her heart and his would break away. Now it seemed that Erik was withdrawing further away every passing moment. As the next few days slipped by, she could feel a cloud of doubt hang over her head. It was almost like a feeling of impending disaster hanging over her head. If she wasn't careful, she told herself, she would end up as morbid as Erik.

Despite all the doom and gloom, Saturday still arrived. Tonight was not only Louis' infamous Masquerade Ball, it would also be the final run of _Aida_. Tension was literally palpable at the Opera Populaire. After intense negotiations, La Marguerite agreed to continue at the theater. The handsome pay increase certainly helped things move smoothly. Bella knew the juicy details behind this little piece of scandal. Because Louis was the primary patron, he was the one to finally agree with the manager's proposition. What surprised Lana the most, was that hardly anyone knew of her promotion. Not even Bella, the ultimate gossip queen knew of it. Lana was fairly sure that Louis would know. She would have to ask him about it tonight. Lana wondered what La Marguerite would do once she discovered that she would be sharing the stage with a no-name chorus girl.

Before the performance that evening, Lana sat in her dressing room, her stomach a ball of nerves. She fervently prayed that Erik would come to her tonight before the curtain call. He knew as well as she that there would be no time after the performance for him to come. Because the ball was scheduled immediately following the opera, Bella informed her that they would quickly dress in her quarters before heading to the party. It was a logical plan, Lana knew. Nevertheless, she wanted to have the chance to see Erik tonight. His presence always had such a calming effect on her spirit. She was doomed to disappointment. Lana watched as the clock ticked away the time. Before she was ready, it was time to head towards the stage. Erik never came.

Disappointment made a bitter taste in her mouth. Picking herself up from the settee, she pushed away all emotions, focusing on the task ahead. There was a well of strength within her small body. One she only drew from in the rarest of occasions. As she left the room, she could not see the shape behind the mirror that watched her every move. She did not hear the mournful cry of longing that escaped those wretched lips. Later, as she stood upon the stage singing with every once of skill she possessed, Lana devoted her performance to him. Her voice soared like a songbird, clearer than the tolling bells in heaven. She made her song a sacrifice to him, pure and untainted by anything but love. Her voice was one of many, but somehow she knew he listened. That he heard. She gave him her heart and soul tonight in music. Somehow, somewhere, Erik was watching.

..._You are never alone..._

His voice whispered in her mind. She prayed that he would someday know that it was for him that she sang.

The curtain fell, the final bows were made. _Aida_ had seen it's last performance.

XX

Behind the curtain, the backstage was alive with activity. As planned, Lana followed Bella into a section of the theater she had never visited - the stomping ground of the _corps de ballet_. Bella had already resumed the role of the Prima Ballerina as well as the impressive dressing room that came with it. Compared to Lana, the little frenchie had a virtual palace. There was ample room for two large couches, a writing desk, two generous vanities, a free standing wardrobe, and a long wooden table. Upon that table was a series of large black boxes secured with twine. The girls fell upon them, removing corsets, petticoats, and unmentionables all wrapped up in tissue. Bella clapped her hands, as giddy as a school girl. She was so excited about the dresses that before long, Lana couldn't help but smile as well.

Despite herself, she was enjoying the process of dressing in the unfamiliar fashion. The corsets were made of stiff cloth and boning that laced tightly up the back. Although Lana doubted she could sing with one on, she couldn't help but admire how tiny it made her already slender waist. There were delicate silk stockings that came half way up the thigh before attaching to little clips that hung from her garter. On top of this came a layer of heavy petticoats. Once the dress had been slipped over her head and secured, Lana stepped before a long mirror. Bella had helped her secure her thick black curls into a simple chignon. Her neck and throat were bare except for a thin chain of gold. The shimmering material of the dress floated around her like a cloud. Her pale skin was like alabaster. Her lips were like twin rosebuds. Up until this time, Lana had never considered herself pretty. Tonight, she was beautiful like some kind of fantastic princess in a dream. Desperately she wanted Erik to see her like this.

Inside the last box, Madame Noeme supplied the girls with two ornate masks. One was adorned with feathers and beads in a sensational shade of scarlet. The other was much more reserved. Pearls and lace adorned this simple mask that covered only the eyes and forehead. Bella smiled at Lana. It was more than obvious which went with each dress.

By the time the girls were finally dressed and ready, the backstage passageways had begun to clear. As they passed through, out of habit - or perhaps it was hope - Lana's eyes strayed to the shadows above. She saw nothing. Despite her good mood, she felt disappointment surge through her once again. Just as she began to look away, she caught a glint of yellow directly overhead. A pair of glowing eyes locked with her own. A thrill of hope raced through her, sending her heart racing. She blinked hard, not wanting to be mistaken. It was Erik! She watched him turn away, heading towards her dressing room. Perhaps he would say goodbye after all. She quickly came up with an excuse.

"Bella, I left something in my dressing room. Do you mind if I go get it?"

"Hmm... Didn't you give Louis an excuse along those lines before you ran out on him? It's too late to back out now, you know."

Lana frowned. "I'm _not_ backing out on you. Just head out front and I'll meet you there, alright?"

Bella considered for a moment. "Alright, but you better not be long. I don't want to be late. Geoffrey, my chauffeur, has the Bentley tonight. I'll honk when I see you in case you don't see me."

Lana smiled, already heading towards her room. Bella caught her arm before she could move much further. "Lana..." she hesitated. A look of concern crossed her pretty face. It was obvious that the girl feared Lana was about to bolt.

"I'll be just a minute, I promise." Lana tried to sound as sincere as she could.

Bella nodded once then released her arm. Lana had to force herself from running all the way to her room. Stopping before the door, she paused to make sure noone - namely Bella - had followed her. The corridor was as empty as it normally was. Her heart was beating so hard now, she felt sure Erik could hear it. Opening the door, she stepped inside.

He was there...

Erik faced the wall, head bowed. She was surprised to see that he wore only one of his old fashioned dress shirts left untucked over a pair of black trousers. When he heard her enter, he slowly turned to face her. Lana could see that the flowing shirt had been left haphazardly unbuttoned. There was a wildness to him tonight that she had not seen before. Erik was always intimidating. Tonight he was much more than intimidating - he was dangerous. His amber eyes glinted, cool as steel.

"Why are you dressed like that," he hissed. Lana blinked in confusion, not knowing what to say. This was _not_ what she expected.

Erik advanced on her, his lips curled into a furious snarl. "Did you come here to haunt me?" Lana tried to back away, and smacked into the door. She had never seen him so irrationally angry in all her life. She cowered against the wall, pressing against it as hard as she could. Erik hovered over her, his eyes full of accusations. His voice rose to a fevered pitch, still lovely even in its ferocity. "Did you come here to haunt me," he roared again. "Am I to have no peace at all?"

Turning suddenly, he flung himself at the wall, banging with his fists. Just as quickly as his temper came, it faded. He stood with his back to Lana, breath pouring from him in hard gasps. Lana shook from head to toe. Never in her life had she felt such unexpected terror. She had always known Erik to be strong, but this display of ferocity was awful. She needed to touch him - to feel him with her own hand. Reaching out, she moved towards him. Erik recoiled as if she brandishing a flame.

"Don't touch me," he growled.

A small sob escaped her lips. "Erik, please tell me what's wrong. What did I do to make you so angry?"

"Get out of here," was his response. When she did not move, his voice rose in anger. "GO! Get out of my sight!"

Lana turned and fled. She ran mindlessly down the corridors as if hell followed. Only when she reached the safety of outdoors did she finally slow. Standing on the front steps, she gulped in great gasps of air. The night was cool and refreshing, but Lana didn't notice. In her mind, she heard his voice commanding her to leave. Her world was crashing down before her eyes, leaving her nothing to fall back upon.

A loud honk from the street startled her. A long black car pulled up along the pavement. One of the passenger windows rolled down. Bella stuck her head out.

"What the hell happened to you," she said with all her normal sensitivity and tact.

Lana straightened up, forcing back the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss this with Bella of all people.

"Nothing happened to me," she was shocked at how normal her voice sounded. "I was just waiting for you."

Bella opened the door and gestured for Lana to enter. She sat down beside the frenchie, careful to make sure her skirts made it inside before shutting the door.

"So if nothing happened, why do you look like you're crying?"

Lana's hand flew to her cheek, surprised at the wetness she found there. She wasn't aware of shedding a single tear. "Oh, it's just... allergies. I do this off and on when I get around certain animals."

"Uh huh. Yeah." Bella tried not to laugh. "Okay, just keep it to yourself then." With a gesture to her servant, the car took off heading towards the center of Paris.

XX

Erik sat at his piano in the little house by the underground lake. Why had she come to him _then _of all times, when he was at his weakest. To see Lana standing there, the perfect image of _her_. His heart simply couldn't take it.

He had lashed out uncontrollably, driving her away. Lana would never understand what she had done to deserve his anger - how could she? Chances are, the girl would never allow him to see her again. He had undoubtably wounded her beyond reckoning. Whatever punishment Lana gave him was only what he deserved.

The thought of Lana leaving him all alone in his world of darkness was too much to bear. He couldn't allow her to go without at least some kind of fight. He had defied fate too long, left too many things unsaid. He would tell her everything, tonight. Galvanized into action, Erik ran to his room. It was a masquerade, after all...

XX

Stepping into Louis' ballroom was like stepping into another world. The d'Bienne mansion, situated in the heart of Paris, was located in one of the oldest, most fashionable districts. As soon as the two girls entered the foyer, it was like being transported to another time. Music filled the air. They were surrounded by the sights and sounds of another time, another place. Everywhere Lana looked, she encountered another masked lord or lady. Not a single person walked around unmasked. After Bella handed the servant a pair of gilt edged invitations, he led them into a grand ballroom filled with couples dancing in formal step. The stringed orchestra played a waltz, sending the dancers into a whirl of skirts and jackets. Bella turned to Lana, a wide smile gracing her lips.

"I can't wait to find a partner, _mon_ _ami._" She handed Lana a small white card with several blank lines. "This is your dance card, like in the old days. Do you know how it works?"

"Not a clue," Lana forced a return smile. There were hundreds of people here. While the room seemed large enough to accommodate many more, it was still unnerving to be surrounded by so many people.

"Well," explaining things always made Bella happy. "You find a gentleman who wishes to dance with you, and he puts his name on your card next to a dance. When that dance comes up, you already have a partner." As she was speaking, a slender young man in a gray jacket with matching silver hose approached them. Turning to Bella, he bowed low.

"Monsier Morrel," Bella chirped. "You can't hide that chin underneath a mask."

"I will forgive that insult only for a dance, mademoiselle." By the grin on the man's face, his pride couldn't have been _too_ hurt by the comment. Bella allowed him to scribble his name on her card anyway. No sooner had that man walked away content, than another followed. Before long, Bella was surrounded by a sea of handsome young gentlemen, all fighting for a place of honor on the card. It looked as if the little frenchie was going to be occupied for some time. Lana didn't blame Bella for abandoning her so easily. Unfortunately for her, there was only one man she wished to see tonight. The likely hood of _him _showing up was next to nil.

Lana glanced around the room nervously. There were so many _people_. It was like being swallowed in an ocean of humanity. When a strong hand encircled her elbow, she was so caught up with her fears, a gasp escaped her lips. Beside her stood a tall man with long, flowing black hair. He wore a jet black coat with a deep red vest inlaid with an intricate working of golden thread. A cravat was tied at his neck, cascading down in a fall of snowy white linen. Amused eyes gleamed at her from behind a simple black mask. ..._Louis..._ Frankly, at this point Lana was glad to see _any_ familiar face, even him.

"You look like you're drowning, _ma petite_," Louis drawled. His voice was like warm honey. "Why don't you come with me and let me get you something to drink." He offered Lana his arm. She took it gladly.

"Sounds like a winner of a plan to me," she said, relief flooding her mind. Taking her gently by the elbow, Louis led her through the mass of people. As the moved through the crowd, people nodded and smiled as they passed. The young man was extremely popular, she noted. Then again, it is his party after all. That also meant that he knew exactly where to go for a relatively quite chat and a cold glass of wine. Lana found herself standing before a long, antique bar. Modern day bottles with colorful labels adorned the mirrored walls. Fluted glasses and tumblers hung from specially designed racks above the wooden ledge. The tender stood behind the bar wearing the clean, but low class clothing of a working man from the 1850's. If Lana wasn't feeling so out of sorts, she might have been impressed by Louis' thoroughness.

With a gesture, Louis ordered two glasses of wine. He handed one to Lana. "_Château Haut-Brion Pessac,_ a bottle of my favorite wine. Feel honored, _ma chere_. I open these bottles only for very special guests." "A few hundred of them, you mean?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Louis sipped delicately at his wine, rolling the liquid on his tongue before swallowing. It was fascinating to watch. Lana had to jerk her eyes away before he realized she was staring. His eyes twinkled at her, laughing in silent amusement. "I only opened one bottle this evening, and it was for you. Now drink it up, my dear."

She set the glass on the table, feeling acutely uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted to do in coming tonight was give the man a wrong impression of her intentions. "Louis, why would you do something like that for me?"

His eyes watched her from over the rim of his wineglass. She could see that he was laughing at her, enjoying her discomfiture. "To celebrate you of course. Bella is lady of the hour, I know, but you are the new Musetta, are you not?"

Lana's eyes widened. "So you _do_ know about my promotion. What about La Marguerite?"

"What about La Marguerite indeed?" A low feminine voice came from behind Lana. It wasn't surprise that made Lana gasp. The voice that spoke was distinctly American. Turning, Lana came face to face with a little, rosy cheeked woman in her late 50's. She towered at a scant 5 ft tall, but probably weighed nearly 150 pounds. The woman's face was cheerful in the extreme. She had an infectious smile that reached nearly from ear to ear, baring an alarming row of white teeth.

Louis placed a hand on Lana's back simultaneously turning to meet the newcomer. "Lana, I have the distinct pleasure of introducing you to none other than Madame Harvey." The little woman bobbed up and down in a strange little curtsey before taking Lana by the hand. "She's a writer for the _Societe_ column, and covers most of the theater's gossip."

"Mademoiselle Lana," the little woman gushed. "You wouldn't happen to be Lana Keeton, would you? The American girl who stole Monsieur d'Bienne's heart?"

A blush rose from the roots of Lana's hair all the way down her neck. She had a feeling the blush was more damning evidence than anything else she could say. "Well, I am Lana Keeton," she stuttered. "But as for anything else, I think you've got the wrong idea."

Louis' hand still rested at her back. He stood close enough, that she felt him stiffen at her words. She didn't mean to sound so cold about it, but she didn't want to end up as his girlfriend in tomorrow's gossip paper.

The older woman winked shrewdly, as if passing a secret message along to Lana. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by the sound of loud clapping. The last waltz had ended, an applause was raised by the dancers. The orchestra moved immediately into another song.

Louis shifted, taking Lana by the hand. "I will have to bid you adieu, Madame. The mademoiselle has already promised this dance to me." Without waiting for a response, he pulled Lana to the center of the dance floor. She started to protest, but quickly found the effort useless. Louis moved so quickly and the sounds were so loud that it would impossible to stop him even if he cared to listen. When he was satisfied with their position, he turned to face her. Placing one hand on her waist, he took her hand into his own with the other.

"I've never danced a waltz before in my life," she whispered frantically.

The grip on her waist tightened. Louis drew her closer against him. "There's nothing to worry about, Lana. I will lead you in the steps. Just let me guide you, and all will be well."

Not knowing what else to do, she clung to Louis. He did not so much lead her in the dance, but carry her. She had not choice but to hold on. Breathlessly, he swung her around, moving in and out, the dance carrying them all around the room. Lana tried to help out, only ending up in stumbling. If it wasn't for Louis' strong arms, she would have fallen for sure. She could feel the ripple of muscle as he held her carefully.

"Relax," he whispered into her ear. "I won't let you fall, just trust me." Only then did Lana allow herself to relax enough to let him lead. Against her will, she found herself actually _enjoying_ the intricate waltz. He was an excellent dancer, and handled them both masterfully. When the song came to an end, she actually felt a bit disappointed. Looking down into her eyes, he smiled. "Again?"

Lana nodded. "If it's not too much trouble. I don't want to take you away from all your other guests."

He shook his head. The dark mane of his hair spread out around his shoulders. Just like when she first saw Louis, she was overcome with an urge to reach out and touch his dark hair, to see if it was as soft as it looked. After everything that had happened, Lana was chagrined to know that she was so weak. She looked up to see that Louis was watching her, a curious look in his eyes. Lana looked away quickly.

"I'll dance with you again if you answer me one question." His voice was low in her ear and as intoxicating as wine. She could feel her toes curl in her little slippers. Without waiting for her response, he led her into the rhythm of the new song.

"Fair enough," she answered, although she had a funny feeling she wasn't going to want to answer anything he wanted to know.

"When Madame Harvey asked you that question, why did you say no?"

"What question?" Lana felt her mouth go dry. Another dance might have been a mistake after all.

"You know what question. Why is it so hard for you to admit that I've given you my heart?"

Lana tried to pull away, but Louis held her fast. His fingers were like steel and just as unbendable. "Louis, I don't want to have this conversation right now."

"Don't try to walk away from me, Lana. I was cruel to you that morning, I know. That was only because I care about you. No matter what you may think of me, all that I have done was done for love."

She was trying to remain calm, but her temper was quickly rising. "Louis, you don't know what you're talking about. Let's go back to the bar and have another drink, hmm?"

Louis released her wrist, grabbing her chin instead. He forced her face to meet his own. "I know about the other man, Lana. Your secret lover. Bella told me everything." There was a light to his eyes that made her distinctly uncomfortable. This was quickly becoming more than just an annoyance.

"Bella doesn't know _anything_ about this," she hissed. "I don't know what she told you, but she knows nothing."

He jerked her hard against him. "Then why are you resisting me? What can I give you that will make you give me just one chance with you?"

Lana tried to keep her voice low. She didn't want to be seen making a scandal with the theater's patron. She wanted to at least have a chance to perform her part once before getting fired. "Louis, I..."

His eyes moved to a point just beyond her shoulder. "Here we are, _ma chere_. Your nonexistent lover has come to claim you." He released her waist then took a step away.

All the blood drained out of Lana's face. Surely, it couldn't be. Slowly, she turned around to face the newcomer. He was a tall man of slender build, yet the musculature beneath his antique cloak and dress jacket was clearly admirable. Upon his face, the man wore a mask similar in design to Louis, covering the top half of his face and leaving only his lips and chin visible. The man's long blonde hair was secured neatly with a long velvet ribbon.

"Erik," she whispered through numb lips.

Behind her, Louis sneered. "So you recognize this gentleman after all." The anger in his voice was unmistakable. He stepped away. "You'll have to excuse me, I have other guests I must attend to." Without another backwards glance, he slipped into the crowd.

Erik moved forward, his hand slipping into the cradle of her waist. His other hand sought out Lana's. Gathering her close against his chest, he guided her skillfully. _After all, he was the sole surviving expert on hundred year old waltzes,_ Lana thought giddily. It was overwhelming to see him here, to stand in the protective circle of his arms. The room was packed with hundreds, yet as Erik gazed down into her eyes, everyone else disappeared.

"You're not angry with me anymore?" she whispered.

Erik pressed her head against his chest. He murmured into her ear, speaking softly as if to a startled child. "I was never angry with you, Lana. Only with myself."

She could feel fat, hot tears gathering at her eyelids. She didn't want to cry, not here in the middle of god and everyone, but she didn't think she had much of a choice. "I was so frightened, you would.... that I'd..." She lifted her head from his chest. "What are you _doing_ here, Erik? What if someone finds out?"

A wry grin spread across his lips. "The likelihood of that happening is next to none. As for what I am doing here... I came to apologize." The smile faded, replaced by unmistakable worry. "There are things you do not yet understand. Things that I haven't wanted to tell you, but realize I must."

Lana shook her head. "That still doesn't explain why you came tonight. You're taking an unnecessary risk by coming here."

"I knew you were frightened. I did not want you to face this alone." His grip around her waist tightened protectively. Lana's heart began to swell so big she feared it might burst. Not caring what the world may think, she lay her head down on his chest, dancing to the steady rhythm of his heart.

They stayed that way, locked in each other's arms for what felt like an eternity. It wasn't until a small, rather annoying voice disturbed them that Lana bothered to look up.

"Lana!" Bella chirped happily. "I see your nonexistent mystery man decided to crash the party after all. How romantic."

Lana gritted her teeth. "Shouldn't you be dancing with someone?"

The little frenchie shook her head. "I have one slot free and am scouting for a partner. Mind if I cut in?" She looked admiringly at Erik. Lana couldn't help the little twinge of jealousy that pricked her heart like a needle. When she saw Erik roll his eyes towards her and sigh, she grinned.

"I don't think he's in the mood for another dance. We were just about to..."

"...to take off and run, I get it." The note of dejection in Bella's voice was impossible to miss. "You've already stayed much longer than I thought you would. Go ahead and go. If you're boyfriend doesn't want to dance with me, that's alright." She sniffled pitifully. "I don't even know your name, anyway."

"I was going to say that we were just heading towards the bar," Lana lied. She sighed inwardly. One day, she was going to have to find new friends. "Would you like to get a drink with us and just sit this one out?"

"How about _you_ run to the bar and wait for us." Bella fed her arm through Erik's elbow. "I'm just _dying_ to meet your guy."

Erik cast a panicky look at Lana. _Let's just call it revenge for snapping at me earlier,_ she smirked. He shot her a grimace that seemed to say - _Paybacks are a bitch._ "It's just one dance, Erik. I'll just mosey on down to the bar and grab us a glass of wine."

Bella was already leading Erik away, her mouth running a mile a minute. "So you're name's Erik is it..."

Lana couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. She wove her way through the crowd and headed towards the bar. As soon as they came back, she did plan on leaving, now that Bella mentioned it. She had no idea what Erik meant to tell her, but she had a feeling this was something that might take awhile. The masquerade wasn't exactly the place for a heart to heart.

When Lana reached the bar, she was relieved to see that it was empty of other patrons. She had harbored a half-hearted fear of seeing Louis here. Stepping forward, she tried to catch the tender's attention. The man never seemed to look her way. With a sigh of frustration, she opened her mouth to call out. A man stepped from behind her, blocking her view. With dread, she looked directly into the face of Louis.

Lana tried to back away, but he grabbed her arm. "Don't leave," he pleaded. His voice had lost all traces of anger. His eyes pleaded with hers. "Forgive me my temper, but you have a knack of making me lose it."

"Yes, well you don't do much for mine, either."

Her reply made Louis grimace. "Just sit with me for a moment. Drink a glass of wine while we wait for the others. I'm assuming they're to meet you here after the dance?" He led her to one of the chairs by the bar.

"Were you watching me?" Bella asked incredulously.

Louis ignored the question, nodding to the tender instead. The man immediately produced two glasses of blood red wine. Lana reached for her glass. Normally she wasn't much for drinking, but tonight's escapade had left her in need of a restorative of some sort. She lifted the glass to her lips and swallowed a large mouthful. The wine was rich and full, with a dry smoky taste. It filled her mouth and nostrils with the scent of woods on a clear summer day full of blooming berry bushes. There was simply no other way to describe it.

Despite her frustration, Lana eyed the glass appreciatively. "You know this isn't half bad." She drank again, this time much deeper.

Louis watched her as she drank. "It should be. That particular bottle is well over a hundred years old. The vintage is 1891. Absolutely perfect in my opinion."

"I would have thought it would turn to vinegar by then." She drank again, dismayed to find her glass empty. "This tastes like a fresh orchard." Lana's hand strayed to her forehead. For some bizarre reason, her head was beginning to swim. She had only drank the one glass of wine, so there was absolutely no way she was drunk already.

Louis set his glass down and reached across the table for Lana's hand. When he took it into his own, she didn't seem to mind it one little bit. "Just one question," he whispered so low she had to struggle to hear. The orchestra had been playing the _Blue Danube_ waltz - or so she thought. Now it was nothing more than a swirling cacophony of unintelligible noise. Didn't anyone else notice that the band all seemed drunk? "Would you have ever considered giving me a chance, Lana?" Louis' eyes bore into her own, searing their impression onto her brain.

She smiled happily. "Not a chance in hell!"

Louis nodded, his eyes growing distant. "I thought so." He still held her hand in his own. Standing, he tugged her gently. "Come with me."

Lana saw absolutely no reason why not to. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable request. If only the room wasn't spinning so unnaturally, she wouldn't have so much trouble following. Louis led her past the crowd into a darkened hallway. She never would have noticed the passageway was even there if Louis hadn't been leading. They passed by several doors before finally pausing. He opened the door and led her inside. Turning, he locked the door securely behind them.

Lana turned to survey where he had brought her. The room itself was nothing more than an ordinary bedroom. In the center lie an enormous four poster bed adorned with a feather stuffed duvet. For a moment, a part of Lana's brain cried out in warning. If only she wasn't so dizzy, maybe she would know what was bothering her so badly. Something wasn't right, she knew that for sure. Something about this moment was going seriously wrong.

Louis turned to her, his face nothing more than a blank mask. Moving slowly, like in a dream, he came towards her. His hands went to the cravat at his neck, untying the tight folds as he walked. Next came the vest, then the jacket. By the time he towered over her, he wore only his cotton dress shirt above the dark linen trousers. Without a word, he scooped Lana into his arms, carrying her easily to the bed. By this time, alarms were screaming in her head. She tried to cry out, but her mind couldn't form the words she wanted to say.

"The drink," was all she could mumble.

Her eyes tried to focus on his, glaring with accusation but they could not. He had lain her down. The bed creaked once again under his weight as he settled himself on top of her, being careful not to crush her. "I'm sorry I had to drug you, _mon cherie_, but you left me no other choice. You've fractured my mind, Lana. I can think of nothing but you, yet you won't have me. I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you, standing there among all the other chorus girls. You've wanted me to, I know it - I can sense it." His hands moved to the shoulders of her dress. He jerked them down, easily tearing the delicate fabric of her dress, exposing even more of her breasts.

Lana moaned softly, angry tears welling up in her eyes. She wasn't confused anymore, but was just as helpless as ever. She tried desperately to speak, but could not. She tried to raise her arms to offer at least _some_ kind of resistance. Her body simply wouldn't respond.

His lips fell upon her neck, his weight falling heavily upon her chest. His tongue stroked the tender flesh, searing her skin with his kiss. Lana closed her eyes, fighting back her fear. How long before Erik found her missing? How long before he found where Louis had taken her.

Louis' hands roamed over her body, caressing her legs, her waist, her breasts. His long raven locks had fallen free, covering their faces in a black waterfall. "If you would only let yourself love me, Lana, I know I could make you happy. I could give you anything. I would _do_ anything, just to have you with me. All you have to do is love me."

Lana squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on one word alone. With all the will in her body, she shouted at the top of her lungs, "**_Erik!_**"

Louis stiffled the scream, covering her lips with her own. Lana couldn't help the tears that fell freely from her eyes. He tried to brush them away. "Don't cry, my love. He won't hear you over the music, even if he is looking for you." Louis' hands moved slowly down her torso, down her thighs. He pulled the fabric of her skirts up, feeling for the warm skin underneath. Slowly, he began to move the heavy skirts higher, pushing them further up her thighs. Dizziness, swept over her again. If she was truly lucky, she would pass out before he could finish the job.

"Once you are mine, you will never wish for another man again. Let me possess you, _cherie_, and you will never need another man again."

He leaned down to kiss her lips, but the oddest thing happened. A large black form shot past her, yanking Louis from off her body. There were sounds of hitting, and fighting. A man cried out in agony. She wished that she could just turn her head to see, but could not. Struggling to keep conscious, she clung to hope. Just as her eyes clouded over, she felt tender arms, gather her up. A familiar scent filled her nostrils. Lana closed her eyes in peace, her body relaxing in his embrace. "Erik...."

XX

When Lana coerced him into dancing with the silly chit, he was tempted to defy them both and refuse. Rather than risking the temper of a woman scorned, he decided it would be in his best interest to play along. Unfortunately for him, the little chit's mask didn't cover her mouth. The girl talked incessantly about nothing of any value. Not that this surprised him. In Erik's opinion, it was very rare to find _anyone_ with anything of real value to say. While the girl talked, Erik listened and watched. He followed Lana's progression as long as he could before she was swallowed by the crowd. Just as she moved out of view, he could see Louis move to follow. _Damn society party,_ he growled. Instead of leaving the little chit spinning, he waited for the song to end. As soon as it did , Erik hurried to the bar. He wasn't surprised to see that both Lana and Louis were missing. Curling his hands into fists, he almost screamed in frustration.

Softly... Faintly... He heard her voice. She was murmuring something.

Erik turned around in circles, trying desperately to locate her voice. It was gone. His eyes scanned the ballroom, searching for some kind of logical hiding place. Where would the damned wolf take her?!

Suddenly, he heard her voice again, calling his name loud and clear. Erik's eyes focused on the almost hidden hallway. Not caring who saw, he rushed towards the hallway, running full tilt. He passed several doors before he found the one he was looking for. Kneeling down, he pressed one eye against the keyhole. A cry of pure rage issued from his throat. Like an infuriated bull, he broke the lock with one swift kick. There were no thoughts in Erik's mind. He tackled the boy, pulling him off of Lana like a leech. The boy was no weakling. Striking out, he hit Erik directly in the face, knocking off the mask. Infuriated beyond all reasoning, the boy's fate was sealed with one flick of the wrist. Before he could even cry out, the punjab lasso had tightened around his neck, cutting off his windpipe.

Erik yanked on the rope bringing the boy to his knees. He towered before him, his ruined face more terrifying than death itself. He could smell the wolf's fear pouring off of him like sweat. It would only take one little pull, one little tug to end the boy's miserable life. He deserved nothing less than death. Just as his fingers tightened on the rope, a voice spoke in his mind. _If you kill this boy right here, right now, they will accuse Lana. In some way, she will be found responsible for your handiwork. Should she suffer for his death as well?_

Erik threw down the rope in disgust. He moved to where the boy knelt, taking the knot at the boy's throat in his hand. "Twice now I have had cause to kill you because of this woman. Twice now, I have spared your life. There will not be a third." With a quick gesture, the knot was untied. Louis looked up in abject horror. "This woman is protected by the Opera Ghost. You will never attempt to contact her again. Have I made myself understood?" Louis could do nothing but stare in horror. Erik leaned down close and screamed with all the pent up rage he felt, "_Are we **clear?!**_" Louis nodded now, his head shaking up and down rapidly. "You will leave off your patronage at the theater. Find yourself another hobby. Understand?" Again, Louis nodded his head up and down, this time falling piteously at Erik's feet. He shook him off in disgust. "Get out of my sight." Louis did not need to be told again. Jumping to his feet, he flew from the room as if fearing pursuit.

Slowly, the rage seeped away from his body. Turning to Lana, he scooped her limp form into his arms. Her eyes flew to his face. She grew limp as she fell unconscious.

"Erik," she whispered.

A cold sensation filled Erik's mind. Holding Lana carefully with one arm, he inspected his face with the other. The mask was gone, knocked off during the scuffle.

..._His mask was gone..._

_Had she passed out from the drug, or was it fear...._

XX

A/N:

I hope you guys like this. Please let me know if you think it works...

J.


	17. Chapter 15 In Which Many Things Become U...

A/N: You will definitely see some of Susan Kay's ideas in this chapter. Let me tell ya – I do not own Erik, nor S. Kay's Erik, nor G. Leroux's Erik. So don't sue me.

XX

1_Had she passed out from the drug, or was it fear...._

Cradling the limp, unconscious form in his arms, Erik didn't care to know the answer to that. He knew well enough that the question would resolve itself in time. For now, he concentrated on getting Lana to safety as quickly as possible. The bedroom where he still stood had two entrances - the door that he already came through and a pair of glass paneled doors that led outside. It was obvious which would be the safest route. To take Lana back into the ballroom would lead to disaster. Even now, amid all the confusion of the moment, Erik kept her career a priority. The last thing she needed was a scandal.

Pushing through the doorway, he was rewarded with a burst of cool night air. There was a stone terrace hedged by a line of manicured bushes. Erik's eyes darted around the deserted patio. There was no one around. Staying cautious, he kept to the shadows, using his cloak to shelter Lana's body as much as he could. Through the line of greenery, he could see the street. It was filled with parked vehicles from other party-goers. Although personally he could drive nothing more than a horse and four, he wasn't ignorant to the changes in technology. While he couldn't operate a vehicle himself, Erik saw no problem in utilizing the servants who did. Recognizing the yellow-stripped coach for what it was, he approached it without hesitation. He shifted Lana's weight to one arm before opening the door and slipping inside. He positioned her body in his lap with her head resting upon his breast. Her hair had come loose from the pins that held it bound. Now it cascaded down her neck, contrasting with her already pale skin.

The foul smelling man in the front seat eyed them both from his mirror. "Must have been a good party, no? Don't worry monsieur. I'll get you home before she wakes so the party can continue, eh?" He made an absence gesture with his hands, laughing rudely.

Erik glared, his amber eyes turning an unsightly shade of yellow. Just one glimpse and the laughter died from the cabbie's lips. "You will take me to Rue St Duechet immediately." His voice was a low hiss, brooking no discussion.

The cabbie couldn't seem to drag his fearful eyes away from the mirror. "I... I don't want any trouble monsieur. I meant no insult."

Erik lowered his gaze, staring intently down at his small burden. "Your ignorance will be marginally forgiven... if you _drive._"

With a few mumbled words of apology, the man shifted into gear. When the lights of the de Bienne mansion were finally behind them, only then did Erik allow himself to examine Lana. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Dark circles were forming under her eyes. It was obvious the man had drugged her. He had seen enough poisons in his lengthy existence to know the signs. Had he not spent many years in the courts of the Persians learning that very trade? Once, he would spend terrible hours concocting poisons of every kind and nature all for the pleasure of the little _Mahaidi_. Still, with all his knowledge and expertise, he could do nothing to save the life of the woman he loved if need be. All he could do was watch and wait - praying that the drug was not meant to kill. Never had he felt so impotent in all his life.

It felt like an eternity before the coach stopped before his manse near the opera house. Erik knew it wouldn't do to have the man leave him at the theater at this time of night. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew several hundred francs worth of folded bills. When the cabbie saw the amount, his eyes widened in surprise.

"I appreciate your discretion, monsieur," Erik murmured softly in his most convincing tones. "If asked, you will not remember me, understood?"

Slack jawed, the poor man was too shocked at his sudden turn of fortune to disagree. Taking his silence as a reply, Erik carefully lifted himself and Lana out of the cab. As soon as the vehicle was out of sight, he took to the shadows. Judging by the moon, it was very late indeed. There were no other people littering the streets tonight. Cradling her carefully in his arms, Erik hurried as cautiously as he could to the alley behind the theater. Once he was inside the tunnels, ensconced in protective darkness, only then did Erik find any relief. Here was safety. Here was home.

It was only a matter of minutes before he reached the boat and the house beyond. After all this time, Lana had never once stirred. Erik carried her into the little house, considering where to lay her. The settee simply wouldn't do. There were only two bedrooms in his house. His room wouldn't do either. He had never kept a bed there - only a shining black coffin that stood as a reminder of that which he could not attain. The only other room once belonged to another... but that was long ago. How long had it been since anyone had occupied that room? Erik didn't bother to imagine. He carried Lana there, gently laying her upon the bed. The sheets were soft, fashioned out of satin. How often had he dreamed of lying in this very bedroom, her soft body cradled against his own....

Gazing down at Lana, his body burned with desire. His arms ached to hold her, to protect her. She looked so pitifully small in that massive bed. So unlike the vibrant, willful woman that he knew her to be. She was stirring in her sleep now, her breaths growing rapid and shallow. "Erik," she whimpered, her head tossing back and forth. "Erik..."

"I don't care what price I have to pay tomorrow," he ground between clenched teeth. "I will hold her now, or I will go mad."

Carefully, he lay down on the bed beside Lana. Gathering her up in his arms, he nestled his face into her mass of dark hair. The scent of clover filled his senses. _She even smells of sunshine_...

"I'm here, _petite_," he murmured into her ear. "Sleep now." He listened as her breathing became more even. Unconsciously, she nestled deeper into the safety of his arms. Her little fingers reached out, entwining themselves in his hair. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips. But, there was no contentment in Erik's heart. The knowledge that this would be the last time he would ever hold her ripped away any hint of joy. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and knowledge would come with the dawn. Once she knew the truth....

XX

Lana's dreams where a jumbled mass of half remembered impressions and nightmarish visions. She struggled to clear her mind from the haze that covered it, but it held her down in the deep layers of sleep. Slowly, the clouds lifted and from the drug induced slumber she awoke. Her first impression was of strong arms encircling her body.

_...Louis..._

Her mind screeched in panic. She tried to struggle away, but her limbs wouldn't respond. Her head was clear, but her body was still under the influence of the drug. Memories flooded her mind. He was on top of her, touching her, _forcing her... _

No...that wasn't how it ended. Just as her vision failed her, someone else was there to save her.

_...Erik..._

He was there, lifting her into his arms. He had saved her from a fate so horrible, her soul quailed to imagine. Was it his arms that held her now? Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was laying on her side, her face pressed against the chest of a man. Her eyes traveled slowly upwards, taking in the long blonde hair that mingled with her own, up the broad expanse of chest. They moved across the broad shoulders, to the delicate flesh of neck. She admired the strong, willful chin and full red lips, the hint of cheek cut off by a black satin mask. Two glowing amber eyes watched her slow inspection with obvious amusement. She noted that her head rested on one of his arms. The other rested on her waist, holding her gently against him. They were lying together on a large bed on top of the covers. She wasn't cold, she noted. The heat from Erik's body radiated into her own. Carefully, she flexed her fingers. To her surprise they responded to her command, their strength slow to return. In her sleep, she had twined a long strand of Erik's golden hair in her fingers. Never before had she dared to touch him so intimately. She was struck by the luxuriance of his tresses, so fine and soft just as she imagined they would be.

From behind his mask, Erik watched Lana's slow return to consciousness. For a moment he stiffened, afraid to watch her reaction to his nearness. …._was it the drug or fear...._ His steady gaze caught her eye. She looked into his face with no hint of fear, only a radiant joy. The relief he felt was almost overwhelming. Damnation, how he longed to kiss her lips, to bind her to him with passion. Yet to take her now, when she was at her weakest. To steal her innocence away without giving her the ultimate gift of truth… He would be no better than Louis.

Lana's lips parted as if testing their response to her command. Her voice was low and tentative. "Am I still dreaming?"

Erik shook his head. "No _cherie_, you are not. How do you feel?"

She tested her legs now, cautiously moving the left then the right. Her knees bumped against his in the bed, which brought a faint smile to her lips. "Everything seems to move okay. What happened?"

His brow furrowed with concern. "Do you not remember?" It was possible the drug could have robbed her memory. For her sake, he prayed that it didn't. His fears were unwarranted, however. Lana remembered what happened all too clearly. Shame caused her cheeks to flame.

"No, I remember what happened with…" her voice faltered," ..with Louis. I mean, I remember him drugging me, and all. I just…" A sudden vision of Louis holding her down, pushing her dress higher and higher up her thighs flashed in her mind. He was touching her, _tasting_ her. The thought made her shudder with revulsion. But then Erik was there. She remembered the sounds of violence and struggle before he held her safely in his arms.

"You wanted to know what happened to Louis," Erik finished for her. _You mean you want to know if I killed him,_ he thought to himself. _Perhaps she finally realizes how bloody my hands truly are._ He wasn't sure if the thought brought more satisfaction or dismay. "You needn't worry about him, Lana. The monsieur will awake this morning with a fine headache, I am sure, but yes he _will_ awaken."

Lana nodded her head, tears welling up under her lids. Her eyes were lowered, staring intently at his untied cravat. Erik gently lifted her chin, bringing her gaze level with his own. "He will not bother you again, I swear it. You have nothing to fear ever again." …_Except for perhaps…Me_

"I can't believe what you must think of me," she spoke in a choked whisper. "I just want you to know that I never did anything to… to _encourage_ his affections. I had no idea he would…"

Erik's eyes clouded, some unknown but powerful emotion sweeping over them like clouds before a storm. "Passion and desire can make a man do anything, Lana, even rob him of sanity. I understand completely the force of unrequited lust." His voice had grown distant – detached almost. There was an underlying sinister quality to it that made her shiver. "There is a side of me, my love that you do not know. I spoke earlier of things we must discuss together, you and I. If you feel strong enough to sit…"

Cold, hard fear seized at Lana's throat. Her hand shot out, pressing against Erik's lips. She pushed up on one elbow her head raising above his. "You don't have to tell me anything, Erik. I don't want to know about what you were, or what once was. All I care about is right now – about you and me. All I know is how you make me feel and how I feel about you. I love you, Erik."

Sitting up himself, Erik shook his head. "Don't say that, Lana."

"It's true." She no longer cared about the tears that trembled at her eyelids. She blinked them away, letting them fall down her cheeks. "I've never loved anyone so much in my entire life, Erik. I love so much I ache inside."

She couldn't see the turmoil of emotion that warred beneath his mask. She couldn't know the torment her words wrung in his soul. How many years of agony had he lived longing to hear those precious words? Erik closed his eyes, fighting to keep control. If he succumbed to her now it would be worse than any rape. Gently, he took her hands into his own. "Before you can so those words, you must know the truth. Will you let me tell you?"

"I don't want to hear," she begged. "If you think you can drive me away from you, it won't work."

Erik gently brushed the hair away from her eyes, the tender caress breaking away her resistance. His voice grew gentle. "In all my many years, do you know that you are the first person who has never asked to see what lay behind my mask? Haven't you ever wondered why I hide myself in darkness?"

Lana shook her head. "I figured you would show me when you were ready," she whispered.

His hand brushed at her lips, sending ripples of desire through her body. "Lana, my sweet angel – I'm ready now." She searched his eyes, but could see nothing in their murky depths. "If you love me," he spoke, "then you will have to know the truth. Only then will you be certain. There can be no secrets between us."

"All right," she whispered.

Closing his eyes, Erik began –

XX

I was born in the hills of Scandinavia in a poor, country village. My father was a well known member of our parish. A talented musician, he would travel from church to church, spreading his godly gifts far and wide performing with the organ or violin. My mother was a merchant's daughter, rather well-to-do for those times. I was told that they loved each other with a passion, more pure and more holy than ever this earth had seen before. But… _I _was born. A child with ten fingers, ten toes, and the face of a monster. Oh yes, I was born with this disfiguration. A face so distorted, so deformed that the midwife begged my mother to kill me before I had even taken my first breath. The curse of my life is that she spared me. If only she knew how merciful nonexistence would have been.

When my father first saw me, his heart turned against my mother. _Only a demon could give birth to a demon_, he said. He insisted that my mother had been seduced by Lucifer himself, that I was nothing more than the devil's spawn. News of my ugliness spread like wildfire through the village. In a matter of hours, villagers surrounded the home armed with fire and pitchforks, waving their ignorant superstitions like a banner. It was only the intercession by my quick thinking grandfather that kept us both alive, that night. They would have burned us both alive – the bride of Satan and her spawn…

I was three years old when I received my first mask. Even at that early age, it was obvious that I had inherited an inhuman gift for music. I could play my father's violin before I even walked – the only gift he had unwittingly given me. By the time I was steady on my feet, my mother realized I would need a tutor. To protect me from the hurts of this world, she fashioned a mask out of a piece of leather. Only then could the various maestro's stand to teach me.

As the years passed by, my mother slowly faded. She did not die of any disease, precisely. She simply lost the will to go on. I was only twelve years old when she passed. My grandfather came to our little cottage long enough to collect her body and see it properly buried. After her funeral, he gave me enough money to see myself settled, making it clear he wanted nothing more to do with me. I was alone in the world – a drifting piece of flotsam left to wander the empty seas. For awhile, I roamed the hills of my homeland always keeping to the outskirts of villages. My mask was my constant companion, my only friend.

I had wandered for months, maybe even a year before the gypsies came. They captured me as I slept one night, holding me captive in chains. Ripping my mask away, they made me an exhibit. In some ways, I found my identity in their camp. There was a certain amount of relief to find myself one freak among the many. After a time, the chains were no longer necessary. I _enjoyed_ the look of horror when people saw my face. When the gypsies learned I would not escape, they allowed me to roam free. During the days, I would stay in my tent milking villagers of their coin. At night, I would walk among my people, the mask a symbol of unity. Eventually, they awarded me with a wagon of my own. That ramshackle piece of wood meant more to me than anything I had ever in my life been given. It wasn't just a wagon, it was _home_.

It was during a celebration one evening that the gypsies learned of my other talents. The young girls gathered around a bonfire, dancing on nimble feet while the men clapped the dance's rhythm. The old men played upon their fiddles, their music drawing me closer to their circle. When I asked to play, they gave me a violin readily. So impressed, were they, with my playing that they began to send their young to me for lessons. It was there that the chieftain's daughter caught my eye.

She was the most lovely thing I had ever seen. Her dark, raven hair hung to her waist in a spiral of dark curls. Her skin was unusually pale for their race – a creamy white the color of fine alabaster. Her dark eyes mesmerized me, always full of laughter. We spent time together, her and I. She had come to me for lessons, but together we formed a bond that went beyond teacher and student. I loved her then, and believed she loved me. The girl knew the tales of my hideous face, but it had always been covered by my mask. We believed that our love could overcome any obstacle, even my own ugliness. Defying the wishes of her father, she came secretly to my tent one night. We intended to run away together. Surely one of the local villages would have a priest. He could marry us and we would live together in a cottage by the sea.

Ah, the innocent stupidity of the young.

When the girl came to my wagon that night, I had made everything ready for our departure. As I gathered together our meager belongings, I stooped over to pick up our bags. Curiosity finally overcame her. Reaching out, she tore away my mask, fully believing that her love would overcome any deformity. Seeing me for what I truly am horrified her. She screamed in terror, alerting the gypsies to danger. I reached out for her, trying to take my mask out of her hands. Not understanding my action, she backed away, trying to escape my touch. When she did, somehow the girl lost her balance. Before the gypsies' eyes, the girl tumbled down the wagon stairs, breaking her neck on the ground. I don't remember the events that followed that awful night or how I was able to escape with my life.

My life wasn't all I escaped with, however. That night the chieftain, enraged beyond reasoning, laid upon me a curse. …_If it's beauty you so desire, then you shall walk this earth an empty soul until true beauty you can obtain…_

From then on, my life has been nothing but an endless search for futility. I have been a composer, an architect, an chemist, an inventor yet nothing I have ever done has gained me the beauty I so dearly desire…

XX

Erik's voice trailed off, his distant eyes regaining their focus. Lana shook herself. His voice was so mesmerizing, it was like awaking from a dream.

"Your story was terrible," she murmured, "but I don't understand why you think it will drive me away. Is it the mask?" Her hand reached out to caress his cheek. Erik jerked instinctively away. He stood up from the bed, refusing to met her gaze.

"I'm not finished yet," he spoke in a low growl. Turning to face her, he held out his hand. "Before I tell you the rest, there is something you must see. Come with me."

Lana took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. At first she feared she was still to dazed to stand. Her head swirled sickeningly for a moment, but it cleared. Erik waited patiently for her to regain her balance. For the first time, Lana's gaze passed over her surroundings. She was in a bedroom, that was for certain. The thing that struck her the most was the overall age of the room. The furniture was crafted out of wood and polished to a shine. Everything was kept in pristine condition. That didn't change how it felt. Every single thing in the room seemed beyond antique – she felt like she was standing in a museum exhibit. An exhibit depicting the bedroom of a wealthy young noblewoman from the Victorian age. The fact that the room was created for, and possibly inhabited by, a woman was undeniable. A chill ran through her. Again, Lana felt the fear she experienced earlier. An overwhelming sense of dread smothered her senses. She didn't want to hear anymore. She didn't want to _know_ anymore. Just one glimpse of Erik's determined face stole any hope of escape. He wouldn't be satisfied until this deed was done.

When she was ready, he led her out of the room. They passed through the living area where they had spent so many happy nights together. The piano beckoned to them both but they resisted. Instead, Erik led her into the only other bedroom in the little house – _His_ room. Erik heard Lana gasp. She had seen the coffin.

Before she could ask, he murmured, "Don't mind that, my dear. I had a rather morbid sense of humor when I was younger."

She smiled weakly. "Hardy har har."

Erik gently nudged her forward. "Come. You must see this to truly understand."

Reluctantly, Lana followed him into the room. There was nothing else inside except for the coffin. "I don't understand what you want…"

Her voice trailed off. Hanging upon the wall was a large framed painting. At first, her confused mind thought she was staring into a mirror. Looking at the painting, the oddest sense of déjà vu came suddenly over her. The woman before her had the same eyes, the same nose, the same lips, hair, mouth. She even wore a dress strikingly similar to the one Lana wore even now – pure white silk that practically shimmered in the candlelight. The longer she stared, though, the more discrepancies her disbelieving eyes picked out. Lana's hair was longer, curlier. The nose was almost the same, but the woman in the picture was slightly less angular. The similarity was uncanny. Whoever the artist was, he certainly captured her likeness almost exactly. Why on earth did Erik think this portrait would upset her so badly? She opened her mouth to compliment Erik when something caught at her eye. Age had begun to wear on the portrait. Fine cracks were forming at the edges. Paint had begun to fade in some places.

"This isn't me," her voice seemed far away, like it was coming from somewhere else. "This isn't _me."_

"No," Erik's voice sounded almost as hollow as she felt. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"Then who _is_ she?" The question was unnecessary. Somehow, Lana already knew the answer.

"She is Christine. Christine Benicoeur, Christine Daae, Christine LeFallie." He paused, letting the implication of his words sink in. "Christine Keeton."

_Christine Daae… the woman from the legends. _Lana shook her head. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. "That's not possible Erik. There's got to be some mistake."

"There's no mistake, _cherie._ I painted that portrait myself after…" He paused. "I am getting ahead of myself, you see. There is so much more to tell."

XX

For years, I searched the earth finding nothing to ease the loneliness that threatened to consume me. Eventually, my travels took me to Paris. Music had always been my one escape, my one true obsession. When I heard that there would be a new opera house built over the ancient catacombs, I knew this would be my one last chance at oblivion. If I could dig a hole deep enough, perhaps then I could find the death I had sought so hard to find. How fitting to chose a theater as my tomb.

During my travel, I learned many secrets. I used these forbidden skills to build for myself not only a home, but an empire of darkness. Only I knew the hidden pathways and corridors that lead to my lair. Only when the construction was complete had I found something that was stolen from me so long ago. Again, I had made for myself a home. A place that was my own. I do not know how long I reveled in my secret house beyond the lake before she found me. Fate was not done with her game, oh no. I hidden well, but the time for my torment was close at hand.

It was late one evening, long after the night's performance was completed, when I first saw her. It was _her – _my love, my life, my beauty – the gypsy girl from so many years ago. At first, my mind could not comprehend what my eyes were seeing. I did not want to believe such a thing could be true. Yet as I watched her, listened to her voice, and followed her as she moved through the theater, I could not deny it was true. She no longer carried the last name of her chieftain forbearer, LeFallie. She was Christine Daae now, but it was Christine all the same.

I was so overcome with joy to see her with me again, that I did not realize that her presence wasn't a gift. Not in the least.

I wanted to get close to her, but had no idea how. She did not know me, this woman. I had to find a way to make her love me. Only then would I ever find the joy and happiness denied me for so long. I'm ashamed to admit it now, but I tricked her. I made her believe I was the Angel of Music. I preyed upon her father's death, only to bring her closer. You see, I knew that the moment she saw the mask that her curious nature would make her see the monster underneath. I thought that if I could make her love me first… Again, I refer to the ignorance of youth, but I was no longer a young man. My mind was so clouded by desire, that I could not see the peril ahead.

There was a young man, you see – the Viscomte de Chagney. Christine knew him from long ago, had spent her childhood years with him. As I worked to make her a star upon the stage, I only brought her closer to her lover. If only she had never risen on the stage, perhaps he would have never known.… That's folly, of course. Some twist of Fate would have brought them together, no matter what I did.

She loved him, not me.

I fought for her. I killed for her. I would have given my life gladly to bring forth one smile of joy. But the moment she saw the monster behind the mask, I lost her for an eternity.

And when I gave her the choice of her lover's death or a life with me…

She chose me with her words, but her heart would never be mine, I could see that. So I let her go with the man… that _damnable _man.

But it wasn't over, even then.

When the cheiftain cursed me, you see – he did not curse _just _me. The curse affected his daughter…

XX

Erik's voice faded. He watched Lana sink slowly to her knees, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"It's not your fault, Erik," she whispered. "You can't blame yourself for this."

He shook his head slowly. "You forgive me too easily. Even now, you do not understand the depth to which I had sunk. When Christine left me, choosing her lover instead, I was filled with rage. 'Two can play at your game,' I screamed into the darkness. 'If she will not have my love, then she will have none at all.'" Erik could not look into Lana's eyes any longer. Their pain mirrored his own all too well. He turned his back to her, forcing himself to finish the task.

"I _cursed_ her, Lana. And that curse has followed every child since."

Lana shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand what you mean."

"The viscomte never married Christine. He took her away from me, got her with child like a common whore, then refused to give the bastard his name." For the first time since his story began, Erik's voice shook with emotion. "Christine died alone, unwanted, and unloved. Even in the end, she would not let me love her. But before she did, she brought me her child."

…._Teach her, Erik… teach her to sing like the angels…._

"I trained the girl as Christine wished and watched in horror as history replayed itself in a slow parody of life. The child grew to love me then to loathe me. She too died a young age, a victim to consumption."

"If she will not have your love, they will have none at all," Lana whispered. "But my mother, what about her? My grandmother left France, when she was a baby. She could never have known you."

"No, she did not. Where is she now?"

Lana felt like she was falling from a great height. Her world was spinning around her. Nothing was as it seemed anymore. "She's dead. She died when I was just a baby. Cancer…"

Erik lowered his head, his guilt too much to bear. "You see now. You understand why it is you can not love me…"

Without another word, he left her silently sobbing on the floor.

XX

A/N: You got to love a good cliffhanger : )

More reviews faster chappies!! Just two left to go!!


	18. Chapter 16 Resolutions

WARNING – THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R FOR A REASON. I WILL MOVE THIS TO THE "R" SECTION NEXT WEEK ; ) I WANTED TO MAKE SURE MY BELOVED READERS SAW THAT I HAD UPDATED188;

IF YOU THINK THIS MIGHT OFFEDEND YOUR SENSIBILITIES, PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.

..._THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE BLAH... BLAH... BLAH..._

Enjoy, guys...

Oh yeah – Seragwen, this chappie is for you, m'dear.

J.

Chapter 16 - Resolutions

Erik had left the room a bare moment before Lana bounded after him, the tears still streaming down her face. She brushed them away angrily, forcing herself to regain what little composure she had left.

"So that's it then? You tell me that I'm nothing more than a reincarnation of your ex girlfriend, then walk away, is that it? Do I have the story right"

He turned to face her, the pain in his eyes almost palpable. The detachment that had eased his storytelling had faded. The flux of emotion that poured out of his soul was impossible to control. The walls had been breached; he couldn't stem the tide. Seeing the look of betrayal on Lana's face made his heart wrench with agony. What could he say that would make her understand the years of torment, the loneliness, the guilt he had suffered. Instead, he said nothing.

Lana's voice stayed under control, but a glimpse of the desperation she felt came through regardless. "Just tell me one thing, Erik. I believe you loved her, your gypsy girl from so long ago and I believe you loved Christine Daae. But could you ever love me? I don't care what you've said about curses or fate. I'm _not_ Christine, damn you." Her voice broke then, trembling uncontrollably. She pressed on, the words spilling out of her lips. "I'm Lana Keeton, American girl through and through. I hate rich, arrogant men and I have a weakness for Cantonese take-out. I don't care _what_ or _who_ I may look like, but I am _no one_ but myself. Me." Her hand pressed against her breast, accenting her words. Tears shone at her eyelids like diamonds. "It's just me, Erik." As always, the mask hid his face from her, sheltering his emotions from discovery. Still, she pressed on. It wasn't time to give up yet. "Erik, I want to know if you can love me for who I am, not who you remember." Her voice trailed off, her eyes searching him for a response.

He remained silent. "Are you even capable of love" Lana muttered.

His eyes shot up to meet hers after that little rejoinder. Her last words were more like a challenge than question. "You ask if I am still capable? Let me assure you, I'm quite capable of love." Without even realizing he was doing it, Erik drew himself up, a feral look gleaming in his eyes. Standing before her, his shirt open at the throat, cloak billowing about him, his raw sensuality practically suffocated her. His presence was like an opiate - all consuming and very addictive. Erik walked slowly towards her, towering over her frame. Lana refused to be intimidated. She stood her ground, her head tilting up to meet him eye to eye. She looked so brave, so utterly determined to win the battle. He had to suppress the urge to smile. She was correct - she _was _different from Christine. They looked nearly identical, that was true. But that was were many of the similarities ended. There was an innate weakness to the Christine of his memory. Lana was anything but weak. Christine had a habit of been domineered by men. The woman standing before him was willing to fight for herself, and for what she wanted.

Gods, how he wanted her, more than any woman he had ever known. Before he could stop himself, Erik placed his hand around her waist, drawing her closer. Against his will, his voice dropped to a seductive purr. "You're more slender than the woman I remember, a bit taller too. And you're the most arrogant, frustrating, adorable person I've ever encountered."

Yet it means nothing...

There was one thing they would all have in common. Lana had not yet seen his face. The thought murdered the growing smile on his lips. All it would take to rob her of her affections was one glimpse without his mask. Before her very eyes, Erik seemed to shrink back, his presence fading. She could feel him withdrawing, searching for some hiding place deep inside.

Looking deep into his eyes, it was almost as if she could read his mind. Suddenly, she knew what he feared so desperately. It all made such perfect sense now. He had been forced to hide from the world because of his face. No wonder he couldn't believe she loved him. There was only one way she could show Erik the truth. This was it. This was her chance, she could feel it. A new found energy vibrated through her body, surging through her veins. If she was ever going to win his love, _now_ was the time to do it.

Before Erik could move away, she placed her hand over his, keeping it at her waist. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. "Show me your face, Erik."

His amber eyes widened in surprise. This was _not_ what he had wanted to hear. "No." It was a simple refusal, but he was too shocked to say more. The words he had dreaded for so long were finally spoken

Lana's hand tightened on his. If he tried to move away, there was no way she could stop him, but she held on anyway. "Erik, show me your face." As she spoke, Lana reached out with her other hand to caress his cheek.

Erik jerked his head away, as fearful of her hand as he would be a branding iron. "You don't know what you're asking me" he growled. He ripped his arms out of her grasp easily and started to turn.

Lana darted forward, grabbing hold of his shirt. "Erik, listen to me. After everything you've told me tonight, what did you think would happen? That I would be so angry that I would abandon you like all the others? That I would leave you alone in the darkness waiting for fate to bring your next tormentor" He pulled away again, but Lana held on for dear life. An inhuman growl sounded low in his throat like a wounded animal.

"Don't turn away from me yet" Lana cried. "I love you with all of my heart, _I_ know that. But _you _will never believe me until all of the walls have come down. Show me Erik. It's the only way you'll ever know for sure."

Erik grasped her painfully by the shoulders, tearing her away from him. The anger in his eyes was unmistakable. Narrowed slits of amber dug deep into her soul with uncontrolled fury. He hung onto his control by a slender thread. "You play with fire like a fool, Lana. I cannot give you what you seek. Leave me while you still have the chance. Find a life for yourself above ground, not here in the darkness with a living corpse." He turned away, intending to escape to his bedroom.

Not giving up, Lana dogged his steps. "I don't believe you mean that, Erik."

Without turning to face her, he spoke. "Believe what you will, _cherie._ I cannot stop you." His voice was cold, emotionless.

Whether it was from the lingering effects of the drug or the intensity of her emotions, Lana's head began to swim. She sunk to her knees, a pool of silks and petticoats swimming around her. Never had she felt so defeated in all her life. Frustration brought tears back to her eyes. It was all just too much. Erik's back was to her. When he heard her fall to her knees, he stopped, but did not turn around.

"Go" his voice was harsh, uncaring. "GO"

Lana clasped her hands in her lap like a little child. She couldn't bear to look at his back, so she stared at her fingers instead. Tears slid down her cheeks, unbidden. She couldn't stop them from falling, so why bother. "Come on, Erik" amazingly, she sounded almost cheerful. What irony that her voice could mask her feelings so effectively. "If you want me to go so badly, I'll go. Before I do, though, at least have the guts to make this separation of ours complete." She took a deep breath. "Show me, Erik. **_Show me._**"

She's right, he thought in despair. _If she's going to leave here tonight, why not make the separation permanent. Why make the pain last more than it should for _both_ of us..._

he thought in despair. both 

Slowly, Erik turned to face her. Defeat was just as plain in his eyes as they were hers. "I have never been able to deny you anything. Love was always my weakness, you see." He took the few necessary steps to stand before her, then dropped to his knees. If she was going to see him, it might as well be face to face. "Lana, I..." The words died on his lips. Without bothering to say anything else, he removed the black satin mask with trembling fingers.

No word, no description could properly explain the mangled deformity that was his face. Lana remembered seeing pictures of people who's faces were burned beyond reckoning. Not even the worst burn could match this disfigurement. The skin of his lips and chin were flawless. The pale pink of his full lips stood in stark contrast to the rest of his face. Ripples of knotted flesh had the mottled color of deep bruises – raw, dark purples and reds. The flesh clung to the bones, emaciated beyond imagining. The crowning disfigurement was Erik's nose. Only a dark hole served as the nose that never grew. His eyes were deep pits of sunken flesh. Glowing amber orbs stood out, burning like twin pits of fire. It was hideous. His face was not that of a monster, but of a mangled, rotted corpse come to life.

Wordlessly, Erik watched Lana's face change from determination, to shock, to an undeniable fear. Disappointment surged over him like a tidal wave, threatening to overcome him completely with despair. _You **knew** this was going to happen,_ he raged. _You **knew** that was how it would be. How dare you even **think** that she could love you?_ Anger burned away his disappointment, filling him with an uncontrollable fury. He leapt to his feet, mask in hand.

Despite his emotions, Erik managed to bite out a few bitter words. "I've made the separation complete, as you wished. Now if you will be so kind, mademoiselle" the word dripped with sarcasm. "I will return you to the surface. Or, if my company is now found completely unwelcome, you can find your own way." As he spoke, his voice grew louder, less controlled. By the time his speech was over, Erik was practically shouting.

Lana's head shot up. Temper made her eyes shine with a fury that almost matched Erik's own. Her head was still swimming, making her stomach lurch dangerously, but that didn't stop her from regaining her feet. She stood close enough to the piano that she was able to lean on it for support. Despite her raging temper, Lana somehow managed to keep her tone cool. She had learned from her father that sometimes the only way to match a man's anger is to show none at all. "Erik, I'm not going anywhere. Now if you will be so kind to quit shouting, you're making my head ache."

"What did you say" Mask in hand, he was about to put it back into place but stopped as soon as she had spoken. He could tell that she was tired and weak, but he was too far gone to consider anything but his own injured soul. Stalking towards Lana, he towered over her, his face contorted with rage. "I'm not in the mood for games" he shouted. "Haven't you learned the danger of trying my patience"

His face loomed over hers. Lana remembered the day when Bella first told her the legend of the Phantom. She had joked that it was too bad the ghost never lived during the "golden age of plastic surgery." Looking at the wreckage of his face, Lana knew that not even the most skilled of surgeons could cure him completely. She couldn't imagine the horror of living a life with that face. She couldn't fathom the isolation, the turmoil. To wander about the earth alone, unloved and unwanted.

Even now, with Erik's face looming over hers she felt no fear. The realization made her heart weep with bittersweet joy. She stared into the amber depths of his eyes. The man she loved was there, hidden away inside. Letting go of the piano, she wrapped her arms around Erik's neck, clinging onto him for dear life. He was so completely shocked by this action, Erik didn't know how to react. His jaw literally dropped open, words of protest forming on his lips. Before he could speak, Lana lifted her face to his. Her searching lips found their mark, searing his skin with her kiss. Her fingers wound tightly in his hair, urging his head closer.

Galvanized into action, Erik took her by the shoulders, holding her away from him. His breath came in rough gasps. Had the girl lost her mind? Desire wound it's way through is body, unleashing the torrent of his passion. He didn't know how much longer he could control himself, especially after her unexpected kiss. His voice was strained from the effort. "Damn you, Lana. You're playing a dangerous game, ma petite. I advise you to leave this moment or face the consequences." He released her arms, pushing her gently, yet firmly away.

Lana forced herself to meet Erik's burning gaze. A raw heat emanated from his body, like a blazing fire that threatened to consume her entirely. Her heart quailed for a moment. Never before had she been with a man. She had no idea what to expect, how to please him, but at that particular moment she didn't care. All she knew was that she wanted him – needed him. A slow burning fire had been kindled deep inside of her body. Instinctively, she knew only way to quench it. Lana took a step towards him, her eyes never leaving his.

Erik watched her with an intensity that she never before experienced. "You can't change your mind" his voice shook with effort. "If you stay with me now, I can't promise you that I can stop myself."

She stood close enough now that she could feel his body tremble. Every muscle in his body strained, taught to the point of breaking. Lana reached up, caressing his face with a gentle touch. Erik's skin burned with fever. Her cool hands traced the lines of scarred tissue, mottled skin. Her fingers glided over his brow, into his golden hair. Erik's eyes closed tight, a low groan escaping his lips. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper"Have you ever considered the possibility that I don't want you to stop? That I've been waiting for you to do this all along"

Erik's eyes flew open. Moving with uncanny speed, his arms ensnared her waist, drawing her hard against his body. She was shocked at the feel of rigid muscles separated only by a few layers of clothing. One hand buried itself deep into her dark curls, angling her head back to make her mouth more accessible. His lips devoured her, kissing her with passion locked away for too many years. His tongue pried her lips apart, delving into her mouth over and over again. She tasted sweeter than honey, finer than any wine. A soft moan escaped her throat, sending ripples of excitement through his body. To hear a sound of pleasure after his touch, it drove him mad with desire. Erik's kisses became even deeper, more demanding. Lana felt her knees give way, no longer able to support her body after his onslaught. Erik's arms supported her, pressing her even tighter.

He wanted to speak, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he wanted her, but his lips simply couldn't form the words. He needed to touch her skin, to taster her sweet flesh. His hands moved to the delicate fabric of her sleeves which were already torn from Louis' attack. A careless tug was all it took to slide the fabric down, baring her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. Erik's lips moved to her neck, devouring the tender flesh. His tongue roved her skin, bathing her in fire. Ripples of pleasure poured through her body in alien waves. She had no idea love could be so perfect, could feel so divine. Lana tried to think, to stay in control. It was useless to even try. Erik's ministrations were intoxicating. His lips and tongue teased the sensitive skin of her shoulders, gliding over the soft mounds of her breasts.

Erik's hands moved to the tiny button that covered her back, expertly unclasping them one after another, his mouth never stopping it's ministrations. With the last button undone, the fabric slid from her body, leaving her far from undressed. The mass of petticoats still swarmed about her small frame. Lana's numb mind wondered how he would undo the stays of her corset, but she needn't have worried. Devouring her mouth with his own, Erik's nimble fingers made short work of it. The strings loosened, falling down to join the dress on the floor. The petticoats were next, a simple flick of the wrist enough to loosen the strings that held them on. She now wore only a thin cotton chemise that showed much more of her body than it concealed. No one had ever seen her so close to being undressed before, but there was no time for embarrassment or second thoughts. Erik held her back at arms length long enough to drink her in with his eyes. The approval she saw in his hungry eyes was enough to ease any fears she might have possessed. Desire filled her body, the rush more intoxicating than any drug.

Lana clung to Erik, holding on for dear life. She was shaking from unfulfilled passion, filled with a need for something she didn't understand. Her lips sought his, kissing him with all the strength in her body. Her hands roved over his face, caressing the mangled skin. She wanted to touch him – to taste him, just as he had done. She reached for the cape at his neck, trying to pull it away. Erik watched her in amazement before moving to help her. With the heavy cape gone, her fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, sliding under the fabric to the warm skin beneath. Her touch brought a trail of flame over his skin. She could feel the taught muscles and marveled at their strength. She had never noticed just how enormous Erik really was.

Erik's hands dropped to her back, carefully lifting the thin cotton fabric up her legs and over her hips. Every place his hands touched came alive with sensation. It was like every nerve ending in her body had become jolted alive the moment her lips touched his. His strong hands continued their journey up her body, lingering over her hips and waist. She raised her arms above her head, letting him remove the final gown. She had worn no modern bra underneath, only a simple pair of lace panties. She stood before him now, naked and bare. His eyes roved up and down her body, drinking her in.

If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up taking her on the floor like an animal. She had given him a gift much to precious to treat so poorly. Before he lost any more control, Erik took her gently into his arms, cradling her against him. Her wide, starring eyes never left his. He took her into the little bedroom, laying her down on the soft silken sheets. The feeling of the fabric against her bare skin was heavenly. Lana sighed with pleasure.

Erik looked down on her, while his trembling fingers made quick work of his own clothing. Slipping beneath the sheets beside her, he scooped her body into the protective circle of his arms, drawing her closer against him. Lana wrapped her arms around his chest, bathing his shoulders and neck in kisses of her own. A low, animal like growl escaped Erik's lips. She was pushing him past all endurance. He wanted this to be slow, to last forever. He had waited for this moment for so long. Now that it was here, he found that he could hardly control himself.

Erik rolled himself on top of her, pinning her underneath him, careful to keep his weight from crushing her. She seemed so small underneath him, so terribly fragile. She was watching him now, a fearful look flashing through her eyes. It struck him like cold water. He almost leaped from the bed when her words stopped him.

"Please" she whispered. "I've never188; done this before." She reached out to caress his face, brushing back the long blonde locks that poured over his shoulders. "Promise you won't hurt me"

He stared down at her in utter amazement. Leaning down, he kissed her thoroughly, coaxing her tongue with his own. His hands brushed over her silken skin, softer than even the fine sheets. "I'll never hurt you, my love. Never."

Taking her into his arms, they moved together in the ancient rhythm, bodies moving as one. She cried out at first, the pain quick to come and quick to leave, only to be replaced by pleasures she had only dreamed of. As their passions drove them further, they lost themselves in each other's arms.

Later, as they drifted to sleep, Erik murmured her name over and over again"Lana... Lana... " His arms held her close against his body, stronger than any steel. "You're mine" he whispered. "Forever, you are mine." For the first time in so many long, empty years Erik drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Lana's fingers entwined his hair. "That mean's you're mine too, my love." She reached up to touch his cheek one last time before yielding to slumber. Her fingers came back wet. In his sleep, Erik was silently weeping. She wrapped her arms around his body, holding him tightly against her own. "I'm yours, my love... .Yours... "

XXX

A/N: We're not over yet, guys. Hang on with me for one more chappie188; so much to resolve, and so little time ; )


	19. Chapter 17 Consequences

**Excerpt from the _Societe _Column -**

...My oh my, Monsieurs and Mesdames, have I got a juicy piece for you. Last night, I had the honor of attending a celebration in honor of Paris' newest Prima Ballerinas, Mademoiselle Isabella Deloitte, at the _haute culture _d'Bienne mansion. What an unbelievable gala it was. Darling readers, I don't believe I have to tell you the height of perfection the always impeccable Louis Montchmart can reach when challenged. There was beauty, dancing, the creme of Paris society, and above all else - _intrigue_.

After months of waiting, I finally laid eyes upon that charming little chorus girl who mysteriously whisked away our precious Louis' heart. The girl refused to give me a straight answer on her identity - no one loves to kiss and tell, no - but I knew who she was. Soon enough, all of Paris will know her identity. Rumor has it that mademoiselle Lana Keeton, the American _ingenue _will be playing a major rôle in the upcoming opera, _La Boheme._

Now listen carefully dear reader, for this is where things get interesting.

Last night, not long after introductions were made, I noticed the charming couple sipping a cozy glass of wine together. They took to the dance floor and whirled and twirled with the best of them. That is until a certain masked gentleman interrupted, stealing the mademoiselle away. Did I not tell you this little _gigolette _broke our Louis' heart? After losing the lady to another man, I consoled poor Louis as best as I could. Before too long, the little mademoiselle returned to his side where the later disappeared for a more "private" conversation. Neither Louis, Lana, nor the mystery gentleman reappeared for the rest of the evening.

Now here's the best part:

My sources tell me that the d'Bienne fortune is withdrawing all financial backing from the opera house. The managers are in an uproar over their decaying financial state. Will the theater survive the tumultuous romance...

Chapter 17

Bella banged on the front door of the d'Bienne mansion, the remains of a waded up magazine held crumpled in one hand. After what felt like an eternity, Louis' decrepit excuse for a butler finally opened the door. The old man peered down his nose at her, a distasteful curl forming at his lips. Bella was far from caring what the old bag thought or felt.

"The master is not yet awake, _mademoiselle_." He placed heavy irony on the last word. It was obvious what his opinion was of young ladies who banged on gentlemen's doors so early in the morning.

Bella wasn't about to get bullied by a simple servant. She had spent her entire life at the top of society and knew exactly how to bully right back. She poked her magazine at the man's chest to accent her words. "It's past ten, so don't pretend it's early. Frankly, right now I don't _care_ if_ 'the master'_ is in bed or not. Wake him up or let me do it. I'm not leaving here until I talk to Louis."

For a moment their stared at each other, equal adversaries before the butler dropped his head, defeated. With a distasteful air, he ushered her inside. "If you will wait here, mademoiselle, I will..."

Bella brushed past him. "No thanks, I know the way." She hurried her way down the hall and up the stairs leaving the protesting butler behind. When she reached the bedroom door, she banged as hard as she could. There was no answer, silence her only reply. She banged on it again. "Let me in, Louis," she yelled. "I need to talk to you, _now._"

She raised her fist to hit again, but stopped in mid air when the door swung open. When she laid her eyes on Louis, she sucked in her breath. "What the heck happened to you?" His normally impeccable hair was matted and tangled, falling down his neck haphazardly. One eye was swollen, turning an ugly shade of purple and red. Around his neck was a ring of raw, reddened flesh almost like a rope burn. Bella looked him up and down, her jaw agape. Louis growled in annoyance.

"Did you actually want something, or did you come to annoy me first thing in the morning." He jerked a hand roughly through his hair, glaring with his one good eye.

"I just wanted to find out," she started to speak, but couldn't complete the thought. She hadn't expected to see Louis like _this_. "I mean, I..." She sighed with frustration. "Look, why don't you start by telling me what the heck happened. You look like you've been in a train wreck."

He snorted with disgust. "You came here to ask me about my face?"

She shrugged and gestured with her crumpled magazine. "Actually I came to find out if this article was true or not. Seeing you beaten and mangled kind of got me side tracked."

Louis ripped the magazine out of her hand, his eyes quickly scanning the words. "Yeah, it's true for the most part. I did withdraw my financial backing, if that's what you want to know."

Bella grabbed the magazine back. "Does it have anything to do with Lana?"

Louis grimaced. He opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't. Instead he took a step back inside his room. "Look, if we're going to talk about this, I've got to have a drink first. Trust me, I need it." He gestured for her to follow. Inside his room there was a wooden table topped with crystal decanters full of ambiguous brown liquids. When he unstoppered one and poured, the unmistakable smell of whiskey wafted towards he. Louis raised one eyebrow inquiringly. Bella shook her head no. It might not be to early for him, but whisky this early? Not a chance.

Louis threw his head back and took a healthy gulp. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm glad you came to me this morning, Bella," he spoke softly, sounding nearly civilized. "I planned to seek you out later today."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Well that's a change of heart. When did I get so lucky?"

Louis sighed before turning to face her. "Look at my face, Bella. I'm not joking around today. I was brutally attacked last night, and I intend on finding out who is responsible."

"Was it Lana's boyfriend? I wondered when you three disappeared last night, and then after reading this article."

Louis lowered his head, and walked towards her. "How much do you know about him?"

"Who, Lana's boyfriend?" Louis nodded. Bella thought for a moment. "Well, nothing really. Just that I think she's been dating him for awhile now. The girls so damned secretive about those kind of things, it's hard to know for sure."

"So you've never seen him before last night? Never seen him, oh let's say without his mask, perhaps?"

"Well... no not exactly. Why? Is he some kind of famous criminal or something? Is she dating Osama Bin Laden or Charles Manson?"

His head jerked up after that comment, his gaze locking onto her face. There was an odd glint to Louis' eyes that Bella didn't like. "You're a dancer, Bella. You grew up in the theaters, so you know all of the stories, don't you."

She wasn't sure she liked the direction this conversation was heading. "Yeah... so?"

Louis turned away and poured himself another drink. "Can you tell me a specific legend about our theater? One that happened maybe a hundred years ago or so? Do you know the story of the Phantom of the Opera?"

Bella laughed, relief washing over her. For a minute there, she thought Louis was going to say something was actually wrong with Lana's boyfriend. Now she _knew_ he was just stringing her along. "Of course I know that one. Why? Do you want me to tell you or something?"

Louis took another healthy swallow of whiskey. "Humor me."

"Well the long and the short of it is, you've got this ugly guy who hides around in a mask who tricks this girl into thinking he's hot. She fall in love with someone else, bada bing you've got another twisted romance." She shook her head. "Why does it matter?"

Louis' eyes were _definiately_ looking a bit feverish, she noted. His whole countenance had a rather unhealthy gleam to it.

"And do you remember where the phantom lived?"

"Of course. He lived underneath the opera. Now are you going to get to the point, or would you like me to tell you the story of Hansel and Gretel next?"

"This _is_ the point, Bella. Sometimes our legends have a grain of truth to them. I believe that this one is true. _Completely_ true."

"Louis, I -"

He interrupeted her. "You haven't seen his face, Bella. The face of the man who attacked me. The face of the man who hid behind the mask that night. But I have."

"Yes, but -"

"You danced with him Bella. You, who know the face of every man in society - did you recognize him? Did you see him for who he was?"

"I don't know _every man -"_

"Did you every stop to look further? Did you see what lay behind that thin layer of cloth? Did you know you were held in the arms of a monster?"

"Look, just because you came to fisticuffs with him, that doesn't make him a mon-"

"**_I saw his face, Bella!_**" Louis shrieked. The sudden impact of his emotion, made Bella shut her mouth so quickly, she bit her tongue. The metallic taste of iron filled her mouth. She hardly even noticed. "Look at my neck. Do you see the mark of his noose? I tried to rescue Lana from him, but he beat me, then threatened to kill me. In the struggle, his mask came undone and _I saw his face..._"

Louis' voice faded into a horrified silence. For awhile there was no sound but their beating hearts. The import of his words finally began to sink in.

"What do you mean, you tried to rescue Lana? Where is she? I stopped by her flat before I came by here, but she wasn't there."

With shaking hands, Louis turned back to the crystal decanter. He poured out to healthy glasses of whiskey, handing one to Bella. "He took her. I tried to stop him, but I..."

"Wait, are you saying some psycho kidnapped her? Why didn't you call the police?"

"It wasn't a psycho Bella. I'm telling you it was the Phantom."

She shook her head. "Louis, listen to what you're saying. It's just not possible, you know that."

Louis' voice grew hollow, it's sound giving her chills. "I've known for quite some time that the story was much more than a legend, just like I knew that Lana was making excursions underneath the opera house to find him."

Bella felt like her head was swimming. "Lana's was doing _what!"_

"I know where to find her, Bella. I know where he will take her. I've spent this entire night trying to gather the courage to rescue her." His voice turned inward, as if he had forgotten Bella was there at all. "He must have her enthraled somehow. That's the only way she would _ever_ chose a monster over me. Does she even _know_ he's a monster...?"

Bella grabbed Louis' arm. "If you know where she's at, we have to find her. I'll go with you."

He shook his head. "It's too dangerous, Bella."

"I don't care. You'll need my help, Louis. You're in no condition to save _anyone_ right now."

He nodded, patting her hand where it lay upon his arm. "You're right. If you're determined to go..."

"I am."

"Good. I'll tell you everything I know from the beginning..."

XX

A/N: Okay, so here's the deal. You guys wanted more, you get more. I've changed my original ending to make it more, umm... Shall we say involving?

I can't say how many chappies are left after all : )

Please RR


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